Night of the Fatal Frenchman
by indahome
Summary: West and Gordon run all over North America with Dr. Loveless in search of a Frenchman. (I have not added anything to this, just updated it, when it came to my attention that FanFiction will not do the asterisk, which I was using as dividers within a chapter. Without it, it's rather confusing to read :) Anyway.)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Artemus Gordon groaned as he leaned his head against the rock. Not exactly what he would have chosen to rest against, but at that moment he had no other options available. How long had he been walking? He couldn't remember and didn't care to either. His side was screaming out in agony, but he dared not look at it. He didn't want to know how bad he was injured.

"_Where's Jim?" _he suddenly thought, greatly disliking his situation. The last time he remembered seeing Jim was when they had split up right after leaving their train, the Wanderer. That was two days ago and James West wasn't going to start missing him for another two days. This meant two more days of walking.

His horse had reared just as the first shot had rung out, and it was probably what had saved his life. The second shot, however, had caught him in the side. Artie had dove for cover, drawing his gun as he did so, but the sharpshooter was gone and so was his horse.

"I guess he accomplished his purpose," Artie mumbled as he desperately tried to stay awake.

The sharpshooter had left Artemus in the middle of the desert, miles from anywhere and obviously wounded. Apparently, he hadn't expected Artie to make it.

He had somehow managed to keep his canteen with him, although, how he had accomplished that, Artie was still wondering.

He would have given anything at that moment to see his partner come riding over the hill, but he knew he wouldn't see him for a while, if ever. Sighing deeply, he wished their last parting had been a happy one. But it hadn't. The two had quarreled about which way to go, and in the end they had angrily split up, Jim going the way he wanted and Artie going the other.

"I was right in the end," Artie smiled.

But what good was it to prove it to himself? Jim was miles away and probably would never see him again in the land of the living. Again Artemus sighed. He was never going to be able to set their last argument right. Thinking about it, he laughed slightly then groaned as the movement sent stabs of pain up his side.

He had called Jim, "Mr. Know-It-All who was going to end up losing his chance to catch the bad guy." It is funny how in the heat of an argument the stupidest things can be said that will make the other person mad. Artie wasn't sure why Jim had been infuriated when he had called him that, but he had, and he had shot back an equally offensive retort of his own. Artie couldn't remember what it was now, but it had seemed terrible at the time.

Dragging himself to his feet, he ignored the pain that radiated through his whole body, and started on. The sun beat down relentlessly making his suffering all the more great. How much longer could he go on? He dared not wonder. He would make it, and he would be just fine. A wave of dizziness hit him and he fell to his knees.

"Just fine indeed," he spat, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

He was losing blood faster than he cared to know, and his water supply was about gone. He had tried to save it but his wound had made him uncommonly thirsty and he drank. Now the canteen didn't have enough water for a fly, but he had kept it all the same. If he found water, he planned to have something to carry it in.

With the dizziness past, and the land back to where it was supposed to be, Artie started on but this time at a much slower pace.

"You need a place to stop for the night," he chided himself, hoping the sound of his own voice would brighten his surroundings. He wasn't surprised when it didn't.

Their mission had been a typical one: stop some power-hungry nut from ruling the world. As usual, the secret service had sent their two top agents to deal with this catastrophe. "The Doctor," as he had felt so inclined to call himself, had been planning to take over the world by taking over every mine you could think of. As impossible as that sounds, the Doctor had developed some crazy machine to do just that, and it was up to Jim and Artemus to stop him before he succeeded.

"I wish people could just live happily together," Artie sighed, "Why do some people always think themselves better than others?"

The Doctor had hidden himself away in his palace where his machine was kept. Jim and Artie had been able to break in and destroy the machine, but it was the Doctor that the government wanted; and he had gotten away. The agents knew that he couldn't have gone far, and that he would definitely make for one of the two towns near his palace. The problem was, which one?

Artie had presumed he'd make for the smaller of the two, for he assumed that the Doctor would think that would be the last place anyone would look for him. Jim had thought differently; he figured the Doctor would go to the bigger town with less chance of being noticed.

Their argument had been long and harsh. _"Why is Jim so mule-headed stubborn?" _

Artie's knees buckled and he landed on his wounded side. He stifled a cry of pain and wiped his sweating brow.

"Not so good off now, are you, Artie?"

No longer able to ignore his wound, he crawled to a bolder that was offering some shade from the sun. Tearing open his shirt, he peered at the wound. He had plugged the hole with his handkerchief, but it was doing little to stop the blood that oozed from it. Depression washed over him as he realized he had nothing better to wrap it with.

"Jim, my boy, now would be a great time for you to make one of those last minute rescues," he sighed.

Agonizingly, he went through his pockets until his hand found what he was seeking. Taking his pocketknife, he cut the bottom half of his shirt away. "Already ruined anyway," he mumbled. Then from that, he made a makeshift bandage. With it in place, he got to his feet and started staggering across the desert.

He was two days from the Wanderer, and only five miles from the town, but he didn't think he'd have any friends in that town so it was the train he headed for. The thought of his own bed on his own train was slightly heartening, and his step quickened by a bit.

He was tired. Exhausted. His body refused to take another step. Yet he remained upright, walking, stumbling and crawling back to his home. The bullet in his side tore at his insides, and with each agonizing step, it got worse. He was faint with fatigue and loss of blood. His mouth was dry and he desperately wanted something to sooth the pain. The never-ending pain.

"_When was the last time I felt like this?"_ He couldn't remember. Gritting his teeth, he took one more step forward, then another and another.

"At this rate I should reach the train by Christmas," he muttered. It was in the middle of March.

There really was no hope in his situation. His mind went over him being two days away from anywhere, and Jim not missing him for two more days. He really had no hope of rescue. Not from Jim anyway. He was losing blood like a dog loses rewards, and he needed a doctor. By forcing himself to walk he was only further ensuring his death, but yet he couldn't sit still and watch his end come. At least this way he was doing something.

It was like living out a scary dime novel, only he couldn't flip to the end to see what was going to happen. He didn't know if he was going to live or die, but at the moment things were looking pretty bleak and his chances were slim to none.

The sudden sound of a whinny from a horse caught his attention and he turned with anticipation. His first hope was that Jim had defied all odds and had come to rescue him. But on further inspection, he saw that the horse had no rider, and it happened to be his.

Licking his lips, he gave a sharp whistle. The horse's ears pricked and it ran toward him. He whistled again until at last it reached him. The whole exertion had cost him a great amount of energy and he lagged against his horse. The horse had come right up and had not shied at the smell of blood, for it was a smell that it was well accustomed to.

Forcing one foot into a stirrup, Artemus slowly pulled himself up. Grimacing at the pain, he slid his other foot over the saddle and into the other stirrup. The world took a spin and he almost ended up in the sand, but he clutched the saddle-horn and was able to steady himself.

"Nice and easy now," he gasped as he started his horse into motion.

How he intended to stay on the horse was another matter that he would solve when needed. For now, they moved slowly across the dry land with the sun beating down on their backs, and the hot wind tearing at their faces. Artie didn't even see where they went. He left it up to the horse to find its own trail and get them home.

He felt sick. The bullet was lodged somewhere in his side made him feel nauseous. Reaching for his canteen, he drank the last swallow he had, and decided that there had been more than enough for a fly. He almost let it drop to the ground when he was done, but catching himself in time, he hooked it back over the saddle horn.

His side was giving him a bad time, and with each jolt and sway of the horse he slipped deeper into unconsciousness. His hand gripped the saddle horn so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. He didn't know how long or far they had traveled, and the only reason he knew when the sun finally went down, was because it had suddenly gotten cold.

He was shaking all over and that just made things worse. Painfully, he fell from the saddle and lay on the ground for some time.

"Jim, if you ever find me I promise to never argue with you again," he mumbled as he slowly sat up and grabbed the reins.

A coyote howled from somewhere, and Artemus shivered at the hollow sound. He looked to see if his rifle was still in its scabbard and was relieved when he saw it still intact. He wasn't on his feet for long. A sudden wave of dizziness sent him to his knees, and it wasn't long after that that he passed out.

The light from the blaring sun scorched his face and cracked his dry lips. With a groan, Artie blinked into the sun. Slowly looking around, he spotted his horse some feet way, grazing on the leaves of a desert bush. He tried to sit up, but that sent his head for a whirl, so he lay back down.

"Oh," he groaned, "I…got to get up…or I'll never…" he swallowed his last thought. Forcing himself to rise he stumbled to his horse, who patiently waited while he mounted.

It was a good horse, a very well-trained horse. Jim had taken the time and had trained Artie's horse for him. He hadn't really done it out of generosity. No, there had been a time or two when Jim's horse was unavailable and since Jim would borrow Artie's for a little while. It was then he did the training. He couldn't stand having a horse that didn't come to his whistle or that didn't stand still. How he had managed it, Artie was still wondering.

The ride now was much like his ride the previous day, only this time Artemus was out of his head. He mumbled about this and laughed about that and sang. He saw old faces, new faces, and faces he had known that were now dead. He saw days when he was acting on stage, and days where he was in a disguise, fooling some person to obtain information. He saw missions that he had been on, and parties that he had gone to. He saw President Grant and he saw Jim.

Jim, his partner. Suddenly snapped back to reality, he found that the sun was about to set and that he was lying face up on the ground. His horse was right next to him, noisily drinking from a hollow spot in some rocks where the rainwater had collected. Dragging himself over to the spot, he pushed the horse's head away and put his own in the crevice. There had been enough there to satisfy his thirst but not enough to fill his canteen.

His hand felt his wound and came away sticky with blood. Not giving it another thought, painstakingly he mounted his horse.

"Jim!" he called urgently. "Jim, why do you not come?" he was close to desperation. "Where are you?"

...

James West grumpily rode his horse down the streets of a town he had never heard of and hoped never to see again. He had gone and investigated the other town and had come against a dead end. Artie had been right, Dr. Thornton hadn't been there. He hated to admit it but Artie _had_ been right.

He had taken a shortcut to the town, and hoped to reach there a day after Artemus would. He slowly dismounted in front of the rundown saloon and stretched, then quickly went inside and walked right up to the bar.

"Hey!" he banged on the bar to get the bartender's attention. "Remember me?"

"Yes, I remember you," the bartender spat. "You wrecked my place the other day and didn't pay for it."

"That's right," he nodded. "I'm looking for my friend who was here with me."

"I ain't seen him."

"What?"

"I said, I ain't seen him and good riddance," the bartender started to walk away.

"No, wait a minute. You say you haven't seen him? But that can't be, he should have made it here yesterday."

"Well if he did, he didn't come in here, and I ain't sorry neither." Again, he started to leave.

"Have you seen Dr. Thornton?"

The bartender paused for a moment. "No," he lied.

Jim had lost his patience. Grabbing the bartender by the scruff of his shirt, he yanked him up to the bar.

"Where's Dr. Thornton?!"

"He's upstairs in the back room!" The bartender mumbled, wide-eyed.

Jim released him and charged up the stairs two at a time. He dashed down the hall but got cocky as he neared the last door. Drawing his gun, he slowly made for the door.

"_One, two, three!" _he mentally counted just before throwing the door wide open.

Taking in the room at a glance, there were two men standing on either side of Dr. Thornton, who was sitting in a chair. Both henchmen drew their guns, and James shot them, the first one through the head and the second through the heart. He then pointed his gun right at Dr. Thornton's head, who was pale-faced and wide-eyed.

"Mr. West…Please don't shoot!" he stuttered.

"Where's Artie?" Jim asked, taking a step closer.

"I…I don't know…"

Jim struck him from the chair. "Where's Artie?" he almost yelled.

"You'll never see him alive!" the Doctor snapped back, suddenly getting some bravado back.

Grabbing the Doctor's shirtfront, he pulled him to his feet. The Doctor made a wild attempt for an escape, but ended up in a headlock.

"Where's Artie?" Jim yelled, squeezing as tight as he could without killing the man.

"He's… dead… Trenton was sent to kill him," the Doctor gasped.

"What?" Jim instantly released his hold.

The Doctor fell to the ground rubbing his neck. Smiling mischievously from the floor he taunted, "He's deader than a doornail. Trenton made sure of that."

James glared at him. "Where?" he snapped.

"About five miles out of town," Dr. Thornton gloated.

Wrenching the Doctor to his feet, Jim pulled him down the hall. When they reached the stairs, he gave the Doctor a nice shove down. All heads turned and watched the spectacle until Jim appeared. Then they all quickly went back to their card games. Grabbing the Doctor by the collar, Jim dragged him out of the saloon and to the sheriff's office.

Upon entering, he didn't stop but took the Doctor straight to the back and locked him in a cell.

"You'd better pray Artie isn't dead, because if he is I'll come back and kill you." With that, he turned and left the flabbergasted Dr. Thornton behind bars.

The sheriff witnessed the whole scene without saying a word. He waited until Jim left the prisoner's cell and came to talk with him.

"I want to leave him here, and I'd like to know he's going to be here when I get back."

"What's he bein' locked up for?" the sheriff inquired. He knew Jim was a secret service man, but wasn't at all happy that the man he highly respected was being thrown in jail.

"For threatening the United States government," James said matter-of-factly.

The sheriff's jaw dropped. "I don't believe you," he stammered.

"I don't have time to argue with you. He'd just better be there when I get back."

The sheriff nodded his head slowly. "He'll be there."

And with that, Jim was out the door. Running across the street, he jumped on his horse and charged out of town in the direction Artemus would have come from. It was three o'clock in the afternoon when Jim left town and it was almost six when he came upon the spot where the fight had taken place. Dismounting, he searched all around, but found no body, only bloodstains.

Artemus was alive! Wounded, but alive or at least he had been a day earlier. Jim sighed a sigh of relief. The whole way out there he had been scared that he would find his partner's body, and he didn't know what he was going to do. But now new hope had started to form.

He left from there and followed his partner's tracks, across the desert. Jim was alarmed to see the amount of blood in the sand, and he had hurried his pace. He reached the rock where Artie had rested, Jim had to stop for the night.

He pushed himself on the next day, and about a half an hour into his ride, he found where Artie's horse had rejoined him. That gave him more hope to know that his friend was no longer walking. Hurrying on, he followed the wandering trail of the horse. Right about noon, he saw something that made his stomach turn. A group of turkey vultures were circling high around something dead. That something lay in the trail he was following, and he hurried his horse forward to see what it was.

He couldn't quite make it out until he was almost on top of it, for there was an even larger group of birds picking at their catch. Dismounting he shooed them away, and caught a glimpse of what looked like a large coyote. It had been shot several times, at close range. This meant whoever had shot it had waited for it to be almost on top of him before firing.

Running back to his horse, he left the birds to gorge themselves on the coyote; he had more important things to do.

Glancing at the sun, he figured how far he had come that day. He was a day away from the train, and he hoped only a few miles behind Artemus. Artie wasn't traveling very fast and it probably would take him another two days to reach the train from this point. However, if Jim could find him, there was a good chance they'd reach the train tomorrow, and Artie could get the help he badly needed.

The sun was blistering hot and Jim removed his coat. Wiping his face with his bandanna, he looked about him. The heat was wearing him down and his progress seemed to drag. But he pressed on; he was determined to find Artie that day. The sun was low in the west and on the verge of setting. James noticed it with frustration as he went on.

Topping a hill, he pulled out his glass and scanned the desert. A blob caught his eye and he focused in on it. It was a man lying next to his horse. There was only one person in James's mind who that would be and he charged down the hill.

Artie was mumbling about something when he got there, so he quickly dismounted and brought the injured man his canteen.

The feel of cold water running down his dry throat and over his face brought Artemus back to reality, and his eyes flickered open.

"James?" he mumbled thickly.

"Yeah, Artie, it's me."

"I knew you'd come." His eyes closed.

"Well I'm glad _you_ knew I was coming. I had half a mind to leave you here. Just like you, lying down on the job. Leaving me to do all the dirty work," he teased as he assessed how bad off his partner really was.

Artie smiled. "Well you weren't expecting _me_ to do it. Not after the hard time you gave me on our last mission."

Jim cringed as he felt his friend's head. Fever, of course. That bullet needed to come out and Artie was terribly dehydrated. Jim marked each thing off in his head as he went down the list.

"I think it's about time I got you home," Jim smiled. "Think you can ride on your own horse?"

"Try me," Artie mumbled.

"That's just what I intend to do."

He helped his friend to his feet, and together they made for Artie's horse. Once he was safely aboard, Jim mounted his own and led them home. He set a fast pace, and ignored the groans from behind. He had to get Artie home and the sooner the better.

They made three miles, before the sun finally dipped behind the horizon and was seen no more.

Jim quickly dismounted and went to stand next to Artie, "Look, Artie, I've got to get you home. Do you think you could make it if we push on through the night? There'll be a full moon tonight and it will give us more than enough light."

Artie groaned and slumped his head. "Whatever you say," he whispered.

He was pale, unusually pale, and he was shivering from head to toe. Walking back to his horse, Jim found his blanket and draped it over Artie's shoulders.

"We'll stop once we reach the train," he reassured his friend, who grumbled about something in return.

Onward they went, each step taking them closer to home.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

They reached the train at dawn, and Jim smiled happily as he spotted the smoke rising playfully in the air. He had never seen a more beautiful sight in all his life. Easing Artie from the saddle, he helped him climb the stairs and steered him for the sofa.

"Mmm," Artie groaned, raising his hand to his head as he looked about the room.

Jim was busy getting some water and finding that new bottle of brandy he had acquired from the Doctor's palace.

Artie watched him for a moment before his eyes became too heavy to hold open. He felt sick. His side was screaming in agony and he was hot all over. His eyes would not stay open, and his worried partner kept dabbing his face with water as he tried to get some information from him.

"Artie, I have to try for the bullet but it's in there pretty good. You've already lost a lot of blood, and I fear it just might be too deep."

Jim rattled on, making ready to take the bullet out but never actually doing anything. Artie knew he would eventually, but he sure was taking his time and patience had run thin with the dying man.

"Jim?" he grabbed his arm. "Will you stop taking your dear, old, sweet time and get it out? I'd like to keep it for a souvenir, but not in me," he slurred his speech.

"Fine." Jim gripped a towel and gave Artie the brandy. "I sure hope my first-aid knowledge is up-to-date." And with that, he grabbed a pair of surgical scissors and started for the bullet.

The cork to the bottle happened to be in Artemus' mouth at the moment. His teeth sunk in and he took a nice-sized piece off. His hand gripped the side of the sofa, and he swallowed the cry that wanted to escape. He didn't stay like that for long. He tried to stay awake, but his will was not enough and he passed out.

Jim tried for the bullet, but it proved rather unwilling to come. He spent a good five minutes trying before his patience gave way. Irritably, he sat back on his heels and looked at his ever-paling partner. Wishing he'd had the foresight to put him on something higher than the sofa, he went back to work. He was not to be rewarded until half an hour later. He suddenly jerked hard on the bullet and it came out. Artemus groaned uncomfortably. Dropping his prize in the bowl of water next to him, Jim quickly covered the wound. The wound needed to be cleaned, but having nothing else at hand than the brandy that Artie was still clutching he used that. Removing the cork, he dumped it on the wound. Then, with strips of cloth, he tightly bound it.

Smiling happily at his handiwork, he slowly got to his feet and collected the instruments he had used and took them to the kitchen. Washing and drying his hands, he made himself a cup of coffee. A nice strong cup. It normally came out strong, but today you could have stood your spoon in it. Gulping down a cup, he poured himself another, then another. Sighing he started the unhappy task of cleaning the first aid equipment he had used. When that was done, he took the pot of coffee and his cup and went to sit on the sofa across from his friend. Gratefully, he sunk into the couch, and despite his best efforts, he fell asleep.

It was dark in the train when Artie finally opened his eyes. Worriedly, he tried to sit up. He didn't succeed on the first attempt, but he did on his second; spitting, choking, coughing, and wheezing out the piece of cork he had bitten off. Groaning, he clenched his side as he got to his feet. The room felt like it took a spin and he leaned on the table in front of him. This was not going to work. He couldn't tell up from down and his side hurt. Slumping back on the couch, he groaned. He was dripping with sweat, but he was cold. Shivering, he looked for a blanket, but there was none on the couch. Remembering that he had seen one on the couch next to his, he made for it. Not on his feet, for he could not get his balance, but instead he crawled to the other couch. His searching arm found a hand on the floor and he jumped back. Giving a small cry in surprise, he tried to get to his feet.

"What!" Jim's head snapped up and he instinctively reached for his gun. Seeing Artie half on his feet, he jumped from the sofa.

"What are you doing up?" he snapped.

"I…was…looking for a…blanket," he gasped. His little excursion had already tired him.

Jim helped him to the couch he had just vacated and placed the blanket on top of him. Then striking a match, he lit the lamps. Glancing at Artie, he thoughtfully studied him. He had a fever, that was very apparent.

The clicking of the telegraph suddenly caught Jim's attention and he went to answer it. It was President Grant and he wanted to know if the mission was completed. Jim almost responded with yes, but he suddenly remembered that was not entirely true.

"No," he finally answered, "Will finish soon."

The answer he got came back in rapid succession, wasn't worth repeating. He thought about telling them Artie was hurt, but decided against it. It wouldn't help his case any.

"Jim?" Artie mumbled, "You didn't get Dr. Thornton?"

Jim sighed. Artie could read Morse code in his sleep. "Yes, I got him, but he isn't here, he's back at that town. What's its name?" he grumbled.

"Wentworth," Artie filled in, and Jim glared at him.

"Now how would you know that?"

"Just do…" his voice trailed off, and James went to look at him.

The bright red color of blood caught his attention. Artie's movement had made his wound bleed again.

"Artie," he cried. "I just finished patching you up." Annoyed, he got to his feet and found the bandages. Frustrated, he rewrapped the wound and glared at his friend.

"Now, don't you even think about getting up again."

Artie groaned, "Do you think I could lie on my bed?"

"Do you really want to be moved?"

He nodded his head yes.

With a great sigh, Jim lifted his friend from the couch and took him to his room. It was then that he noticed Artie was still wearing his coat, boots, and vest. Tugging the boots off, he threw them aside, then worked the coat and vest off. Satisfied, he blew out the lamp and closed the door.

It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't seen the engineer. Leaving the car the way he had entered with Artie, he found the horses still patiently waiting for someone to put them up. Jim led them to their car and into their stalls. After a quick rub down, he went in search of the engineer.

Walking to the engine car, he looked around. The engineer was nowhere to be found.

"Good evening, Mr. West," a voice called from behind. "I was wondering when you would come looking for your engineer."

Jim slowly turned and found five men staring at him. It was dark but the light from the train was enough light that he could make them all out. Four men stood in a semicircle around the side of the engine, with one in the middle. James guessed he was the leader.

The leader was dressed in a tuxedo complete with hat and cane. He had brown hair and a well-kept mustache. He talked with a heavy French accent, and always with a smile. The other four seemed to be the typical gunslinger types.

"I was wondering if I might relieve you of a certain party," the Frenchman smiled.

"And who might that be?" James smiled back as he clasped his hands in front of him.

"A Dr. Thornton. I believe he is staying with you, no?"

"No. There's no Dr. Thornton here. He died when we raided his palace."

"Oh come now, Mr. West, we both know that's not true. My men went through the rubble with a fine-tooth comb. No, Dr. Thornton got away, and you, Mr. West, know where he is."

"No, I'm sorry I can't help you. I thought he had died in the explosion," Jim bowed, and made for the door to the car.

"Please, Mr. West, not so fast," the Frenchman called. "I am willing to believe that you do not know where he is, but I am also willing to believe that you could get your hands on him if you so choose."

"So?"

"I have your engineer and will not give him back until Dr. Thornton is delivered to me," his big brown eyes narrowed. "Mr. West I would advise you and Mr. Gordon to do as I say, or you may be short one engineer."

Jim wasn't really in the mood for any of this, and if common sense hadn't held him back, he would have punched that smiling Frenchman.

"What's your name?" he finally asked.

"Oh, didn't I say? Antoine Moreau." He gave a small bow. "I'm sorry to bother you like this, Mr. West. You see, I really don't want to do anything to you or Mr. Gordon, but I must have Dr. Thornton and I feel that you would be the man to get him for me."

"I'm honored by your confidence. Now, do you mind?" Jim indicated that he wanted to go back inside.

"Forgive me, Mr. West. By all means please do go back inside and tell your friend all about our meeting. I shall look forward to seeing you tomorrow." Moreau bowed and disappeared into the darkness with his men before Jim could protest.

Shaking his head, Jim walked back into the car. Glancing at a clock it read midnight.

"_Great!" _he thought as he started for his room. He checked on Artie before going to his bed. He still had a fever and that worried Jim a lot. Deciding there was nothing he could do at the moment, Jim went to bed. Things would look better in the morning.

...

Morning came too fast for Agent West. Grumpily, he rolled out of bed. Things did not look any better that morning than they had last night. Artie's fever had gotten worse, and Jim was still without an idea of what he should do about Antoine Moreau.

Artemus needed a doctor, but how to get one was the question. He didn't want Antoine Moreau to know that Artie was hurt; and if he fetched a doctor, Antoine would know something was amiss.

"_Perhaps I could tell them Dr. Thornton was sick?" _he thought as he tugged on his boots. The idea was appealing. The only problem was he had no Dr. Thornton. It was true that he knew where to get him, but turning him over to Antoine was not possible. He figured anyone he brought back to the train would be taken as Thornton.

"_But maybe Mr. Moreau has never seen Dr. Thornton," _he smiled. If the Frenchman had never seen Thornton then he could tell them Artie was Thornton.

Going back to his friend's room, he gave Artemus a glass of water. "Artie?" he gently shook him, "Artie?"

"Hmm?" his eyelids flickered open, then shut.

"Artie, we're going to have a visitor today. Do you think you could make believe you were Dr. Thornton?"

Artie frowned. "Jim, how am I supposed to do that?" his eyes really opened this time, and he tried to focus them on Jim, which didn't work.

"All you have to do is lie in bed and look sick," Jim smiled.

"I thought I was already doing that," he grumbled.

His head was pounding and he could barely make out what Jim was saying. His whole body hurt and he was cold.

"You are, Artie, and you're doing a fine job," James smiled.

Artemus shivered. "Do you think I could have another blanket?"

"Sure, Artie."

He went and found him one, then made himself another pot of coffee. He had a feeling he was going to need all the energy he could get.

The Frenchman showed up at noon, and rapped lightly on the door with his cane. He had brought the same henchmen with him, but they stayed outside and the Frenchman came in alone.

"Ah, Mr. West, how good to see you again. Have you thought any on my proposition?"

"As a matter of fact I have, but first I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"By all means, ask away."

"How did you know it was me last night?"

"Who else could it be? You see, Mr. West, we've met before. Only I don't expect you to remember."

"As a matter of fact, I don't."

"Well that might be because you were pointed out to me in a crowd. I believe you were running from someone." He smiled, "But you always seem to be running from _someone_. I was supposed to have met Dr. Thornton, but your little fiasco postponed that meeting and I'm sorry to say I never did get to see the man." His smiled widened. "But you, Mr. West, you can find him for me."

"I'll do my best." He had suddenly made up his mind that he was not going to show him Artemus.

"Thank you, Mr. West, that is most accommodating. But I'm afraid I must give you a deadline. I need the Doctor in a week at the latest."

"What do you need him for?" Jim was puzzled.

"For personal reasons of my own."

"A week isn't much time."

"Yes, but I'm afraid that's all the time I can give you. It's most urgent that I have him in that time."

"Well, I'll see what I can do." he opened the door for the Frenchman.

"Thank you. Mr. West." He rose to his feet and made for the door. "You have been most accommodating, and I like that. I was looking forward to meeting you, and you have fulfilled my expectations."

Jim bowed as Antoine left. Shutting the door as soon as the Frenchman was out, he searched for his coat. He didn't have a plan, but he was going to go fetch the Doctor. His only problem was that it was a two-day ride, and someone had to stay with Artie.

Frustrated, he went to see his partner. His only solution at the moment was to take Artie with him, but that was not going to work and Jim knew it. He was surprised to find his friend awake, and even more surprised to find that the fever had gone down.

"I don't know what medicine you took, Artie, but whatever it is keep at it."

"I haven't been taking anything," he snapped.

"But you sure are looking a whole lot better than when I left you three hours ago. And if I remember right, people don't get better in three hours."

"Shows how much you know," Artemus smiled.

"I'm not convinced, but at the moment I don't have time to argue with you."

Quickly, he explained the situation to Artie and what he was planning to do.

"No, I will not go with you. So you can get that out of your head. I didn't make it all the way back to this train so you could drag me off of it again. No, I'm staying put and you're just going to have to get Thornton by yourself." Artie settled back in his pillows.

Jim could tell by his face that there was no way he was going to get Artie to change his mind. He had not really wanted to take Artie with him anyway, but there was no way he was going to leave him here by himself, no matter how well he looked.

"Then what am I to do with you? You can't stay here by yourself."

"And why not?"

"Artie, in the state you're in you couldn't hurt a fly, and if Antoine comes back I don't want you here alone."

"Worried about me?" Artie teased. "I'm touched," he smiled. "But you must leave me here alone. Because there is no way you're getting me into a saddle."

"Well…" Jim smiled mischievously.

"No way," Artie wore a stern face and he glared at Jim.

Artie was right and Jim knew it, but he didn't like the idea of Artemus always being right.

"What have you been drinking anyway?" he asked, suddenly smelling something very foul.

"Nothing," Artie glared.

Jim smiled, "You are a liar."

"Thank you. That's the nicest thing you've said to me since you've come in here. But I haven't been drinking anything. I was playing with that." He pointed to his nightstand, where his bowl was filled with a green liquid.

"And what is that?" Jim asked, turning his nose up at it.

"I'm not sure. A thought came to me and I had to try it."

"While you were in bed?" Jim was puzzled.

"No, silly. I went to my lab, but I got tired and brought it back with me."

"You mean to tell me you've been playing around in your lab for the past three hours?"

"About that much time," he smiled at Jim's bewildered expression.

Sinking into a chair, he studied Artie. "Please explain to me how that was possible. When I left you this morning you looked ready to kick the bucket."

"Oh, you probably over-dramatized it. You always do," Artie smiled.

"Never mind," Jim shook his head, "I don't want to know. The fact still remains that I will not leave you here alone, and you refuse to mount a horse."

"Right," Artie smiled.

"Then I have only one solution," Jim said as he left the room.

Artie didn't like the way Jim smiled when he left, and he began to worry about what his friend's plan might be. However, he was pleasantly surprised when all Jim returned with was a thermometer. Jim jammed it in his mouth and made him be quiet as he took his temperature.

"Hundred and one," Jim read aloud.

"That thing tasted terrible," Artemus made a face. "What did you do? Dip it in alcohol?"

Jim smiled, "No, something quite different."

"You wouldn't have…you would." Artie suddenly felt sleepy, "You did." His head hit the pillow; it was getting too heavy to hold up.

"Sorry, Artie, but I really had no other solution."

His friend mumbled something about getting even as he struggled to stay awake. There was no way he was going to let Jim drug him, not again. But it was too late, and the more he struggled the harder it was to stay awake. Jim was standing there smiling as he waited for him to pass out, and that angered Artie. He was going to have to get even.

Jim waited until he was sure Artemus was asleep, and then Jim got him ready for the trip. It would have made his job a whole lot easier if Artie had been awake, but if he had been awake he wouldn't be going.

At five, the two left the train and headed back to the booming metropolis of Wentworth. Jim took a covered wagon, and he had Artie situated comfortably in the back. Why the train had a covered wagon on it, Jim never knew, and probably never would. He guessed Artie was using it for something of his own.

Starting across the trail he had so recently left, he looked for something to be happy about. He really had nothing to make him happy. Artie was going to kill him when he woke up, and Antoine Moreau would probably kill him if he ever found out what he was up to. But Jim thrived on danger and Antoine did not scare him.

He wished he could have left Artie on the train, but he really had no other option. He did not want Antoine Moreau to come to the train and kidnap Artie, and the only way he knew to make sure that did not happen was to take Artemus with him.

A groan sounded from inside the wagon and James cringed. He had not expected Artemus to wake up so fast. Normally, he overdosed his poor friend, but today he had not given him quite enough.

"_Oh well," _he thought, _"Not much Artie can do about it anyway."_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Jim," Artie groaned, "If I ever get my hands on you…" His hands rubbed his head. He had the most enormous headache and with each jolt of the wagon he felt sick.

"Sorry, but I really didn't have the time to argue with you," Jim called over his shoulder, "How do you feel?" He knew it was a stupid question, and he asked it sarcastically.

"Oh great, I don't think I've ever felt this bad in a long time." His voice was still slurred, but Artie had returned to his sarcastic self.

Satisfied that his friend was as well as could be expected, Jim concentrated on the road. At the same time, Artie concentrated on not being sick.

James West rarely took the time to think a plan out. Normally they always worked, but there was usually a simpler way. His hasty plans had saved both of their lives more than once, but they had also gotten them into avoidable trouble with their superiors. Colonel Richmond, the head of their department, had more than once questioned Jim's plans. However, he had never really done anything about it, for James and Artemus were his favorite special agents, as well as the President's. Both agents knew this and took risks other agents wouldn't.

Now was one of those times when his plan might have been questioned, but he would worry about that later. He had five men following him, a partner who groaned at every bump in the road, and he wasn't entirely sure Dr. Thornton would still be in town. He had enough to worry about.

They didn't stop until the sun had sunk low on the horizon. It lit up the sky with magnificent colors, red, orange, yellow, and pink which caught the occasional cloud. Artie watched it as he leaned against the wagon wheel. Jim had done his best to make him comfortable. Shivering slightly, he pulled his blanket closer.

"It sure gets cold fast," he observed.

"Yeah, it does." Jim handed him a cup of coffee.

Artie took it, and braved a sip. Jim's coffee was never very good, and tonight was no exception. Making a face, he muscled it down, and watched as his friend made beans, bacon, and bread, or at least tried to. A coyote yapped, and he turned to see.

It had silhouetted itself on the ridge of a dune, and it yapped at the moon. Another joined it, and they barked at each other.

"They remind me of two women, always fighting, never content."

"What women do you go out with?" Jim smiled.

"Your dates," he smiled back.

Jim made a face and went back to his bacon. Satisfied that it was done, he made a plate and gave it to Artemus. He politely took it, and then studied how he was going to eat it. The beans were underdone and the bacon was burnt. The bread was salty, but Artie didn't want to offend Jim so he tried to eat it. His friend had never spent a lot of time learning to cook, so his food was never as good as Artie's, but it was normally edible.

"You know," Jim said, as he threw his bread on the ground, "This is disgusting. I knew I wasn't a good cook but this is the worst I've ever made."

"You probably had your mind on other things."

"Yeah, I did."

"Like those men who are following us."

"My only worry is I'm not sure how I'm going to be able to get the Doctor all the way back to the train without them knowing it. I knew they'd follow me. I guess I was just hoping they wouldn't."

"Seems to me that our biggest problem is transportation, not the men following us."

"What do you mean?" Jim asked. He knew what Artie was talking about, but he wasn't quite sure how he intended to fix the transportation issue.

"Well that's my wagon, is it not?"

"Yes."

"If I remember correctly I had a false bottom installed. Only problem is I'm not sure I remember how to open it."

Jim smiled, "You mean you installed something and now you can't remember how to open it?"

"That's what I said," Artie replied with an annoyed look on his face.

James' laughed. "That has to be the funniest thing I've ever heard."

"And why is that funny?" Artie asked, completely at a loss as to why Jim found it so entertaining.

"Never mind," he smiled.

Gathering up their dishes, Jim took them over to the fire, washed them and then packed them away. Then he came back and sat with his partner. They talked about nothing for the rest of the evening, and retired yearly.

...

"Jim?" Artie called from his perch directly behind the driver's seat of the wagon, "I can't find the entrance, I remember hiding it well, but I don't remember hiding it this well."

Jim laughed, "So you hid it so well that you can't find it?" He burst out laughing and continued for some time.

"That's about the size of it, but I don't know why you find it so humorous."

"Don't you find it funny? You hid it so no one else could find it, but now you can't find it yourself. It's a good thing you don't have anyone locked up in there."

"Very funny. If there was anyone in there it would probably be you, and I wouldn't care how long you were in there."

The two had risen early that morning, and were about half way to their destination. The town loomed in front of them, and they reached it at dusk. Jim drove the wagon straight to the jail, and hurriedly jumped down.

"You wait here, Artie. I won't be but a minute." Jim didn't wait for a reply, just hurried on in.

"Mr. West!" The sheriff called as Jim hurried past him. "Mr. West! I was wondering when you would get back."

The sheriff followed Jim around as he reached for the keys and opened the cell that still held Dr. Thornton.

"You see, Mr. West, I have some very important information that I thought you might be interested in having."

James did not stop. He hurried his prisoner outside and kicked the office door shut right in the middle of the sheriff's sentence.

The sheriff looked after him annoyed and offended, "Well!" he snapped. Turning back to his desk he picked up the telegram addressed to Mr. West. "I guess he really didn't want this anyway."

He thought about running it out to him, but the way Jim had treated him had insulted him greatly and he figured his way to get even was to not give James the telegram from President Grant. The sheriff fully appreciated the risk he was taking, but he also understood that there was little chance he would ever get in trouble for not delivering it. No one would ever know that he had been responsible for it not reaching the intended.

James threw Dr. Thornton into the wagon, and chained him up before he could protest. The Doctor turned to yell at Jim as he mounted the wagon, and his eyes fell on Artemus, who was smiling at him. The color drained from his face as he took in the sight.

"Mr. Gordon! What are you doing here?" he gulped.

"Sorry to see me are you?"

"I…well I just thought you were dead. You gave me quite a start," he replied. His color had started to return.

"Yes, I'm afraid your ambusher just wasn't the crack shot you thought him to be. Good news for me, bad for you." Artie smiled.

"But you were shot?"

"Unfortunately, yes. But fear not, I shall live to see many more men just like you behind bars."

"I'm happy to hear that, Mr. Gordon." Dr. Thornton said sarcastically.

"I doubt that, but thank you all the same."

"Do you mind telling me why our departure was so fast?"

"Not at all. It seems that you are a very popular man right now, and we have some very unfriendly looking men who would like to have you."

"Only you're not going to let that happen, are you?" The Doctor looked sincerely worried.

"Well, that's the plan, but I can't guarantee they won't," Artie said, pulling at his ear and trying to hide his smile. "It seems that a certain Antoine Moreau is very interested in getting his hands on you."

The color once again drained from Thornton's face, "You can't…you mustn't let that man near me," he said, panicky. "I'll do anything you say, just don't let him near me!"

Artie was slightly puzzled by his reaction, but he was also happy to learn that the Doctor knew Antoine and whatever the friendship had before, the Doctor was not eager to renew it. He might have carried on the conversation longer and seen what else he could learn, but he suddenly felt tired. He lay down and went to sleep.

James woke him some hours later and he slowly crawled from the wagon. His partner had made a fire and a place for him to sit. Inhaling the cool desert air, he walked to the fire and took the spoon away from Jim.

"Artie―" Jim began, only to be cut off.

"I couldn't stand another night of your cooking." He shooed Jim away.

With a sigh, Jim stood and allowed Artie to have his spot. If the truth were told he was tired of his own cooking, but he could never let Artie know that. With a half-smile, Jim returned to the wagon where he checked on the Doctor. He was still securely chained, and Jim decided to leave him that way. They could not very well bring him out anyway, for fear that he might be seen.

"Mr. West, I demand that you release these bonds at once!" the Doctor snapped as he held up his sore wrists.

"Sorry, Doctor, I'm afraid I can't do that." Jim started to walk away.

"Mr. West, if you're afraid that I would run away, you're quite mistaken. I will do _anything _to insure that Antoine does not find me. And since you are my only security right now, there is no way I would try to leave."

"Sorry, Doctor, but at the moment you must stay as you are. I'm not entirely sure you are telling the truth, and I do not have the time to find out."

"Mr. West, I assure you―"

"Sorry, Doctor, but I really don't have the time."

He walked away feeling the eyes of the Doctor on his back. He really could care less. The Doctor was not important to him and he didn't mind that he was slightly uncomfortable. After all, he had tried to kill his partner.

That night they shared a nice dinner together, and Jim sat back with a sigh. His partner sure could cook, Jim smiled. It was odd to him that a secret service agent would know how to cook food fit for a king.

...

Colonel Richmond paced his office impatiently, as he waited for a reply from Jim. He had sent telegrams to the train and to the towns at which they'd planned to stop. It had been two days since then, and the Colonel had grown tired of waiting.

President Grant was making his life miserable, which meant Richmond was making everyone else's lives miserable, and West and Gordon were no exception. Everyone had been avoiding the Colonel, even his secretary. To some extent, Richmond did not mind. He had enough to worry about with the President breathing down his back. But he also enjoyed it, finding it humorous that his agents were scared of him. Except West and Gordon, he realized in exasperation. He knew that the pair knew they were his favorite and took liberties as a result.

The Colonel did not know that Artemus had been wounded, for Jim had not told him. He also did not know that they were having problems from a second party. All he understood was his two agents had not completed their mission. A mission that should have been completed a couple of days ago.

There was a soft rap at his door, and he paused in his pacing long enough to allow admittance to his secretary.

"Sir," she said timidly, "The President has just arrived."

The Colonel paused again and dread creased his face, "Send him in as soon as he gets here," he mumbled.

She left and he went to sit behind his desk. He could hear the President's heavy trod as he made his way down the long hall to Richmond's office. Richmond quickly surveyed the room to make sure everything was in place before Grant entered.

Ulysses S. Grant barged right into the office and marched right up to Richmond's desk.

"What is the meaning of this?" he bellowed, throwing a telegram at the Colonel.

"Please, Mr. President, take a seat," Richmond replied calmly.

The two men had been friends for a long time and normally the Colonel did not greet him so formally. However, when Grant was angry at him, which wasn't very often, he addressed him in a more formal manner.

The President ignored his offer and continued to stand. Richmond glanced at the paper thrown at him before answering.

"It means just what it says, Sir; Mr. West and Mr. Gordon have failed to capture Dr. Thornton."

"What are those two doing?" Grant paced the office angrily. "They've been down there for three weeks! They should have had him by now."

Colonel Richmond glanced at his worn carpet and wondered how much longer it could take the abuse.

"I'm trying to get an answer from them now, Sir. But you must understand that they are doing everything possible."

"I fully appreciate the situation, Colonel, but you must also understand that I promised to have him in my custody by tomorrow," Grant flopped into a chair.

"Believe me when I tell you we are doing everything possible to ensure that happens."

"I know you are," the President waved his hand. "Only sometimes Congress doesn't understand things quite like we do." He smiled.

"I've never known you to have any trouble with Congress, Sir, and if you really want to know, they're scared stiff of you," the Colonel returned the smile.

Grant laughed. "They're only scared when they know I'm mad."

"Well then, maybe you should play mad tomorrow."

"Oh that wouldn't be hard to do."

"But tell me Sir, what else is troubling you?"

"The dynamic duo, that's what," he said, referring to Jim and Artie.

"Why should they concern you?"

"They don't. I'm worried they won't finish in time."

"I'm sure they will, Sir. They haven't let you down yet," Richmond assured him.

He sighed inwardly. The President had calmed and was now able to talk to him in a more civilized manner. _"Now only to solve the problem with Jim and Artemus," _he thought as he offered Grant a cigar.

...

The wagon bumped and swayed as it made its way down the dusty trail. _"This can't be good for Artie," _Jim thought as he wiped his dirty brow. It was hot and dry, and their progress was slow. They were only a few miles from the train, and James could almost smell the smoke from the steam engine. He wanted to push the horses faster, but he knew that would be useless. They were going as fast as they could, and any faster would probably kill them. However, their trip seemed agonizingly slow to Jim.

Four riders coming swiftly down the hill in front of him caught his attention. "Um, Artie? We have company."

Artemus poked his head out the front of the wagon and watched as they quickly approached. "What are we going to do?"

"I have no idea, play it by ear I guess."

Artie disappeared back into the wagon, and Jim slowed the horses to a stop. He silently sent up a prayer before facing the men. He recognized them as the ones who had been with Antoine, and he looked around for their leader.

"We'd like to search your wagon, Mr. West," a man stated.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't let you do that." James stopped the man with his hand.

"Scared we might find something you don't want us to see?" The man shook his arm free from Jim's grasp.

"No, I just happen to think it's none of your business," Jim smiled charmingly.

"I'd like to be the judge of that." The man started his horse for the back of the wagon, and the other men followed.

Jim jumped down from his seat and went to stand between the men and the wagon.

"Mr. West, stand aside. I don't want to hurt you but I will if I have to."

"You just take one step closer to this wagon, and I'll show you who's going to be hurt," Jim threatened.

"Mr. West, nothing so drastic needs to happen," the Frenchman said from behind.

Jim spun on his heels and turned to face Antoine. He realized too late that that was a mistake. Two henchmen came from behind and held him, while the one who had done all the talking threw back the flap of the wagon canvas.

Jim inwardly groaned. _"So much for that plan," _he thought as he forced himself to look in the wagon.

Artie sat in the back smiling at them all with a rifle pointed at the man who had thrown open the flap.

"Is there something I can help you with?" he asked charmingly.

"That is not Thornton!" the Frenchman thundered.

"Artemus Gordon, at your service sir," he said while nodding his head in a mock bow.

"Mr. Gordon," the Frenchman bowed back, "Very pleased to have met you." He turned to his men and had them release Jim. "I'm sorry, Mr. West, for this intrusion; I was certain I would find Dr. Thornton."

"I thought so too," Jim mumbled.

"What was that, Mr. West?"

"I was just hoping you were satisfied that he's not here," Jim quickly answered.

"Quite, Mr. West. But please remember I need him in three days, or you will have to find another engineer."

"No need to remind me. I'm doing everything in my power."

"And please, Mr. West, keep up the good work. I have no doubt that you will find him soon." Antoine signaled for his men to mount, and they left as fast as they had come.

Jim watched them, then slowly he walked to the wagon. "Where's Thornton?"

"I finally found the trap door to the false bottom."

"Yeah? Well you sure had me scared for a moment there."

"I had myself scared. I only found it by accident."

"Where is it?" Jim peered at the bottom seeing if he could find it himself.

"Right here." Artie pushed on a knot in the wood, and winced when he did nothing more than jam his finger. "Or at least it was here a moment ago."

Jim laughed as Artie frantically started pushing all the knots trying to find the right one. Jim left him to his task as he mounted up and started the horses. The train was just over the next hill and he couldn't wait to get back. It was dark when they finally reached it, and Jim sighed happily. He had been wondering how they were going to get the doc on board without anyone noticing. The darkness had solved that problem.

Artie had been able to find the switch, and Jim led Thornton inside and straight to the car with the holding cell. Then he went back outside and put the wagon away. Artie had helped himself to a glass of brandy, and he poured one for Jim when he entered.

"I'd better tell Washington we have the Doctor," Artemus mused.

Removing the key from its hiding place on the desk, he tapped out a message to Washington.

"What'd you say?" Jim asked, curious. He could read Morse code just as good as his partner, but he had not been listening, and he was very interested in knowing just what his partner had told them.

"I said that we have secured Dr. Thornton, and we're still deciding how to take care of the Frenchman."

Jim groaned.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Artie, I didn't tell them we were having problems with Antoine."

"Oh, I assumed you had. No matter, we should get a very interesting response from them," he smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

In a small room in the basement of the secret service headquarters building, sat a man doodling on a pad of paper. The only lamp in the room was turned low, and the lanky man had his eyes inches from the page. He had a long nose with a pair of spectacles perched close to the end. He was pale from lack of sun, and his black hair was long and oily. The room he sat in was cluttered with papers and pencils. Everyone who walked into that room claimed it was a mess except the two occupants who used it. One in the day and one at night. They had everything in a certain order that only they understood. The other man was sick at the moment, so Wesley had taken over his night shift.

The telegraph key clicked to life and Wesley slowly turned and copied the message on a pad of paper. He mumbled it as he wrote it, then quickly sent an acknowledgment. He slowly rose from his stool and shuffled down the hall to his boss's office.

"I got a message here for Colonel Richmond from Mr. Gordon."

"What! When did that arrive?" Wesley's boss jumped from his seat and ran to greet him.

"About a minute ago." Wesley pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose.

"Good grief, man! What's gotten into you? Colonel Richmond has been waiting for this for three days now."

"Well how was I supposed to know? No one tells me anything," Wesley whined as he started back for his office.

The office that he worked in was not the normal telegraph office. The actual one sat three doors down from Colonel Richmond. Messages only came to Wesley's office if the telegraph upstairs was busy.

Wesley's boss watched him go before hurrying to his boss on the first floor. That boss took it to his boss, and it worked its way up until it landed on Colonel Richmond's secretary's desk. She was not there; she was in the Colonel's office serving coffee to him and the President.

The two men had had dinner together and had just returned to the Colonel's office to go over some papers.

The secretary stayed there for some time helping them, until their conversation became private. The Colonel dismissed her and gave strict instruction that they were not to be disturbed. She quietly closed the door and seated herself behind her desk. It was then that she saw the telegram. It was in an envelope, as all official telegrams were, and she turned it over and over in her hands trying to decipher what it said. She didn't mind bothering the Colonel but she wanted to be sure it was good news. Finally giving up on that, she mounted her courage and rapped on the door.

"Come in!" the Colonel snapped.

She entered timidly and quickly handed the envelope to him, making a hasty retreat. He smiled slightly as she left, then tore it open.

"It's from Mr. Gordon," he said, answering the President's question before he asked it.

He read it once, then read it again. Then he gave it to the President to read.

"What is he talking about? I wasn't aware they were having any difficulties," Grant questioned as he handed it back.

"I wasn't aware of that either," Richmond mumbled as he started for the door.

They made their way to the telegraph room and sent an immediate reply.

...

Artemus sat at the desk idly playing with his pencil as he waited for a reply from Washington. He hoped they'd send one soon, for he was bone-tired. His side still hurt and he was starting to get a headache. But curiosity was stronger than his desire to go to bed, so he waited.

Suddenly the key began to click, and Artie quickly wrote the message down.

"PLEASE CLARIFY THE DIFFICULTY YOU ARE EXPERIENCING," he read aloud for Jim. "What should I tell them?"

"I don't know, tell them what you want," Jim replied from his seat on the couch. He was engrossed in the paper he was reading and cared very little for the conversation Artie was having with Washington.

Artemus smiled mischievously, thinking that this was a way to get back at his partner for drugging him; he quickly sent back a reply.

...

Colonel Richmond read the reply handed to him, and his expression became even more puzzled.

"What does it say?" Grant asked impatiently.

"It says: Artie is feeling much better, no need to worry, signed Jim."

"What? Was Mr. Gordon sick?"

"I don't know," he scribbled a reply and the telegrapher quickly sent off.

...

Artie could barely keep himself from laughing as the reply came.

"WAS UNAWARE THAT MR. GORDON WAS INJURED STOP EXPLAIN PLEASE" he read to himself.

"What do they say Artie?" Jim asked as he readjusted his paper.

"Oh, nothing. They understand the delay."

"That's good."

Artemus smiled. His head was pounding, but he was having fun.

...

"STILL UNABLE TO LOCATE OUR ENGINEER STOP JIM," the Colonel read aloud as his face went red.

"What are they talking about?" Grant snapped.

"That's what I intend to find out," the Colonel snapped back as he took the telegrapher's seat.

...

Artemus instantly noted the difference in the message and smiled. The Colonel had taken over the key.

"START FROM THE BEGINNING BEFORE I WRING YOUR NECK STOP RICHMOND."

Artie laughed, wincing when it tugged on his injured side.

"What's so funny, Artie?" Jim asked without looking up from his paper.

"Nothing," he replied trying to sound innocent, "Just thinking." He typed out his message and quickly sent it.

...

"SORRY THOUGHT YOU KNEW THE DIFFICULTIES WE WERE HAVING STOP JIM."

Richmond's frustration had reached its peak, and he glared at the message wishing very much he could get his hands on West. Grant was annoyed too, and he took the key from the Colonel. The other occupants of the room had long since made their exit and were very happy they weren't Mr. West.

...

"ENOUGH GAMES WEST EXPLAIN YOURSELF STOP GRANT." Artie's eyebrows hit the roof when he realized the President had the key. He contemplated ending his game but decided against it. He was having way too much fun to stop now.

...

"ARTIE AND I HAD AN ARGUMENT STOP JIM"

The message stopped there and Grant angrily looked at Richmond. "Can't those two send a simple telegram?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe when they get back I should have them take a refresher course."

Grant nodded his approval as he sent his final reply.

...

Artie read the reply that wasn't worth repeating, and decided his game had gone on long enough.

Jim's ear had caught the rapid succession of the telegraph and he started to listen to Artie's reply.

...

"ARTIE WENT ONE WAY AND I WENT ANOTHER STOP DR THORNTON WAS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND SO I JOINED ARTEMUS IN WENTWORTH STOP HE WASN'T THERE STOP THE DOCTOR WAS AND THREW HIM IN JAIL THEN SEARCHED FOR GORDON STOP GORDON BEEN SHOT AND WALKING FOR A DAY, BUT I GOT HIM BACK TO THE TRAIN AND FIXED HIM UP BEFORE ANTOINE MOREAU SHOWED UP DEMANDED THAT I GIVE HIM THE DOCTOR OR HE WAS GOING TO KILL MY ENGINEER. I HAVE THREE DAYS LEFT TO FIGURE SOMETHING OUT STOP THE DOCTOR IS NOW ON THE TRAIN STOP JIM"

Grant smiled. Finally they were getting somewhere.

...

James glanced up from his paper and looked at Artie. "Hey Artie, why'd you sign that Jim?"

Artemus tried to hide his humor as he looked back at his friend. "I just thought the message might sound better if they thought it was coming from you."

"Who's they?"

"Colonel Richmond and President Grant," he smiled.

Suddenly not liking the way his partner was smiling, Jim rose from his seat and made his way over to Artemus. The key clicked and he read the message out loud.

"In the future, Mr. West, I expect you to come right to the point. Grant."

"What? Artie what have you been doing?" he questioned.

"Nothing, just telling them what happened," he smiled.

"Artemus Gordon, if you've gotten me in any trouble, I'll―"

"Would I do something like that?" Artie looked at him innocently, and stifled a yawn.

"Yes, you would, and just to make sure you don't cause any more trouble tonight, I want you to go to bed."

"That's not a bad idea," Artie stretched, winced, and hurried off to bed. He'd had enough fun for one night.

...

The next morning found Artemus Gordon in his lab, busily working. He had risen early that morning and was engrossed in what he was doing.

"Say Artie? Why would President Grant send me a million wires, all of which don't answer my very simple question?"

Jim stood in the door way of his friend's lab with an annoyed smile on his face.

"How should I know?" Artemus asked without looking up from his work.

"Because the President informed me that I created this game, and he was only playing by my rules."

"And what does that have to do with me?" Artie mumbled, as he adjusted the flame under a tube.

"Artie, I didn't send any telegrams last night, you did." Jim had approached his partner, his voice full of irritation.

Artie looked up from his work and ran his fingers through his chocolate brown hair. "Jim, I really am sorry but I have no idea what you're talking about, so please would you leave me alone so I can get this finished. We need to be thinking of a way to get our engineer back." He turned back to his work.

"But tell me, Artie, why would Grant, not the telegrapher, not Colonel Richmond, Grant. Ulysses S. Grant. Why would he reply to me in such a fashion?" Jim thrust the telegram under Artie's nose, forcing him to look.

With an annoyed look at his partner, Artemus took it and read. A slight smile played around his mouth, and he quickly handed it back.

"Well? You seem to have _some_ understanding of what's going on," Jim demanded.

"I kinda sent some rather annoying messages last night, and I guess that's Grant's way of dishing it back."

"Is that why you were signing my name to the end of your messages?" Jim groaned.

"You don't think I'd sign my own name, do you?"

"Artie! You could get me into serious trouble." Jim looked accusingly at his partner.

"I think not, Jim. If the old man was playing the game today, then I highly doubt you'll get in any trouble."

"I'd better not…"

"Have you thought anymore about our problem?" Artemus asked as he turned his attention back to his work.

"Yes, and I've decided that I'll go in search of Orrin and you'll stay here and guard Dr. Thornton."

"Sounds good."

"Really? I thought it was a lame idea, but if you like it…"

"I think we're better off if we wait for Antoine to make his move."

"Now that sounds appealing."

"I thought you might like it," Artie smiled.

"At the moment, yes. Later I might reconsider." Jim returned the smile, and headed for the holding cell.

Dr. Thornton was sitting on the cot in the cell, angrily glaring at the door. "Is this the way you treat your guests, Mr. West?" he snapped when James entered.

"I was unaware that you were a guest," Jim flashed a smile.

Reaching for the keys, he unlocked the door and let the Doctor out.

"This is more like it." Thornton rose and straightened his attire. The Doctor was stick thin and had the longest fingers Jim had ever seen.

James led Thornton to the train's parlor, and seated the prisoner. Chaining his wrist to the arm of a chair, he smiled.

"Really? Mr. West, is this necessary?"

"I'm afraid so. I wouldn't want you to grow tired of my company and leave. Besides, you have a date in Washington that I wouldn't want you to miss."

"Why don't we get going then?"

"Because our friend, Antoine, decided to entertain our engineer." Jim had gone to glance out the window.

"I can drive the train."

"You?" Jim laughed.

"Yes, Mr. West. I can drive the train."

"Why am I finding that hard to believe?"

"Because you so easily doubt. It's a bad habit, and I dare say you have a rather bad case of it."

"Well it wouldn't matter if you could drive it. We're not leaving without Orrin our engineer," Jim smiled and left.

Jim silently entered the lab. Artemus didn't even notice, as he was in deep thought. Jim found it amusing to watch his partner at work. Artie hummed, mumbled, and even cried out with glee as he worked on his latest invention. Then with a final triumphant cry, he put down his pencil and turned to the door.

"Ah, Jim! Come have a look," he beckoned, with a smile on his face.

Jim arose and went to stand next to his friend. "Artie, what _is_ that?" Jim asked, recognizing it as the same green liquid he had seen next to Artemus's nightstand.

"I haven't the faintest idea, Jim, but don't you find it entertaining?" He stuck his hand into it and pulled out a glob.

Jim instantly stepped back. Artie only smiled, and then rolled the green stuff into a ball. It became rubbery on the outside but remained a liquid on the inside. To demonstrate, he bounced it on the floor, and it bounced like a ball.

"How did you ever come up with that?" Jim asked, backing away from the ball as it rolled his way.

"I really don't know, Jim. It just came to me." Artie retrieved his invention and put it back into the bowl with the remaining fluid. It instantly went back to its original form.

"And what is that good for?" Jim asked, as his partner slid into his coat.

"As of yet, the only thing I know it is good for is burning. It's very flammable. I mean, _very_."

"And you're going to leave it there?" Jim eyed the bowl worriedly.

"Oh, no," Artie laughed, "No, I'll get rid of it, but right now I want some breakfast."

"Artie, look at the time. You missed breakfast. It's time for lunch."

"So it is," Artie smiled. "I guess then I'm off to find lunch."

They exited the lab together and headed for the kitchen, Artemus in the lead. Upon entering Artie busied himself with making lunch, and Jim sat on the counter in the small room.

"Artie, just how flammable do you think it is?"

"You'd only need about the size of a pea to blow this train sky high."

"You didn't try it, I hope?"

"No, it's only a theory I wish to test after lunch."

"Hmm, maybe. _If _we have time" Jim jumped from the counter.

"You thinking we're going to be busy after lunch?"

"Maybe." Jim smiled and grabbed a stack of plates. He took them to the living room and began to lay the table. Thornton smiled at him, amused.

"I didn't know you secret service agents did housework."

"Unfortunately, the government does not supply us with a maid."

"That is one thing I cannot abide about your government. They never give you the necessary equipment to do _anything_," the Doctor huffed.

"Oh, I don't know. I guess they figured a maid wasn't necessary."

Artie brought lunch from the kitchen and James moved the Doctor's chair to the table. Jim had only fastened one of Thornton's wrists to the chair and he thought he'd leave it that way. They Doctor voiced his disapproval, but he was ignored by the two agents, and quickly gave it up. When the meal concluded the Doctor threw his napkin on the table with a satisfied sigh.

"I will have to say, Mr. Gordon, you are a wonderful cook. I would be happy to give you a job."

"You hear that, Jim?" Artemus laughed. "He's offering _me _a job."

Jim smiled. "Like he's in the position to offer anyone anything."

"You may laugh, gentlemen, but I assure you that I am serious. And if Mr. Gordon ever tires of his current job I will gladly give him a new one."

"Thank you, Doctor. But I'm quite happy where I am," Artie smiled.

Thornton waved him away. "Never mind, Mr. Gordon. I can see you're dead set on ruining our life, so never mind."

Both agents laughed at the Doctor's apparent distress. Artie gathered the dishes and carried them to the kitchen

"Come on, Thornton, I'd better lock you up again," Jim said, rising.

"Must you really, Mr. West? It's so boring in there by one's self."

"You wouldn't want Antoine to walk through the door and see you, would you?"

"You are too late for that, Mr. West. I already have." The Frenchman called from behind.

Jim had his back to the door, and was in the process of releasing Thornton, but he froze. The Doctor's face went ashen and he stared at Antoine Moreau. Jim slowly turned around and smiled at his unwanted guest. Antoine had brought two of his men in with him, and they had their guns pointed right at Jim. Antoine lifted his cane and James lifted his hands.

"Please, Mr. West, do not do anything hasty. We're only here to collect our prisoner. Would you be so good as to call your friend?"

Jim's mind was racing. He couldn't let Antoine have Thornton, but there was really nothing he could do about it. The train was full of booby traps, but Jim couldn't reach the controls to any of them. Flashing his charming smile, he called for Artie.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Artie!" Jim waited a moment, but got no response. "Artie!" he called a little louder, cocking his head in the direction his friend had gone. Again, he got no response.

Antoine had long since lost his patience. "Mr. West!" he snapped. "Stop yelling and go find him. George, you go with him."

The henchman nodded his head, and left the parlor with James in the lead. Jim tried the kitchen first, but Artie wasn't there.

"Must have gone to his room, or he could be in the lab," he mused to himself.

Starting down the narrow hall, he headed for the lab. George was right behind him, his gun in Jim's back. Cautiously, James opened the door and peeked in. Artemus had his back to the door, humming.

Jim threw the door wide and stepped in. "Hey, Artie, we have company," he said, and with one fluid motion he rammed his elbow into George's abdomen.

The henchman dropped his gun and fell to his knees, gripping his stomach. Jim balled his fists and hit George on his way down. He fell to the floor unconscious. Artemus had turned fully around by now, pointing a gun at their captive.

"Let me guess, Antoine?"

"Now how did you know that?" Jim asked sarcastically.

"Call it an educated guess," Artie smiled.

"He's waiting for us to make an appearance," Jim said, motioning towards the door.

"Then we shouldn't keep the man waiting. How many men are with him?"

"One that I know of, but he might have more outside."

"Right," Artemus tugged on his ear as he looked about the room. "You go out the side door, and take care of anyone outside. I'll take care of Antoine."

Jim smiled, and collected George's gun, and headed for the door. Artie waited until he was outside before heading to the parlor. He entered with a smile, and quickly took in the scene. Antoine had moved from the door, and was standing next to the Doctor, his henchman right behind him. He looked up and froze when Artemus entered the room.

"Where is Mr. West? And where is George?" Antoine started forward, but Artie stopped him with his gun.

"George is taking a nap so Jim thought he'd see if he could lay his hands on Mr. Orrin Cobb. That's our engineer."

"Yes, Mr. Gordon, I am well aware of your engineer's name," Antoine snapped impatiently.

"I'm so glad that you took the time to get acquainted with him," Artie smiled charmingly, "Now move." His smile left as quickly as it came.

He shoved them towards the back of the car, and chanced a quick glance out the window as he passed. The sight before him caused him to pause. Jim was attempting to fight five men, but was losing miserably. The five men all jumped at once, and buried Jim underneath themselves.

Artemus inwardly groaned. _"That went well," _he thought as he turned his attention back to his to captives. He was just in time to see Antoine bring his cane crashing down on his gun, knocking it to the floor. With a sigh, Artemus stepped back, his hands raised. He was hoping to reach the button on the wall that would trigger a sleeping gas, but Antoine saw him move.

"No, please, Mr. Gordon. I would hate to have to kill you."

Artemus lowered his hands and sighed. Today was not his day.

"That is a much wiser choice." The Frenchman smiled, and directed his henchman forward.

The henchman did as his boss told him, and he roughly shoved Artemus against the wall as he searched his pockets. He produced a small gun from Artie's vest pocket, a larger one from his coat pocket, and a rather strange looking gun from his sleeve.

"My great Aunt Maude always told me to be prepared," Artie shrugged with a smile, as the two men stared at the assortment of guns the henchman had pulled from Artemus' pockets.

"I see," Antoine mumbled, as he glanced at the pile of stuff and then back at Artie. _"How does he manage to hide all that, and have his cloths look so trim?" _Antoine was puzzled, but he didn't press the point. He had more important things to do.

George stumbled through the door and two of Antoine's gunmen drug an unconscious Jim West into the room. Artemus watched them both come and sighed with defeat. Antoine smiled. "You see Mr. Gordon? I have everything just as I want it. A bargain is a bargain." He clapped his hands And Orrin was escorted into the room. "Only, Mr. Gordon, I feel that I must make a slight change in plan. You see I must get Dr. Thornton to my superiors the day after tomorrow, and what better way to go then on this train?" he walked about the room. "It is so finely furnished and so well stocked." He smiled at the sight of the brandy. "I should enjoy myself immensely."

"Sorry to dash your plans, but without me or Jim, this train is no good."

"Oh, do not worry, Mr. Gordon. I intend to take you both with me. You have a holding cell do you not?"

Artemus refrained from answering. Antoine took it as a yes.

"I'm sure you and Mr. West will be very comfortable there."

"Would it do any good to ask where we're going?"

"You may ask, but I'm afraid I shall not answer." Antoine motioned with his cane, and Artie was taken to the cell with Jim.

George threw Artemus in and Jim was unceremoniously dumped on the floor.

"Sore 'cause he gave you a headache," Artie quipped, looking at George through the bars.

He glared back at Artemus as he headed out the door.

"Hey! Are you going to bring me something for my friend's head?" Artie called.

George grumpily walked back to the cell and glanced down at West. The agent had a nice gash on the back of his head.

"Oh, alright," George grumbled angrily.

Artemus knelt next to his partner. Gently he looked at Jim's head and was rewarded with a groan. James tried to rise, but Artie pushed him back.

"Sit still!" Artie huffed as he looked at the wound.

"I feel like I got run over by a train," Jim slurred. He was trying to get his eyes to focus, but it was not working.

"Well you should. This is one nice cut you got here. What'd they hit you with anyway?"

"I don't know, I didn't ask."

"Got a headache?"

"What do you think?" Jim lifted his head to glare at Artemus, but stopped. The movement had set the room spinning.

"Are you dizzy?"

"Yeah, some," Jim shrugged.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Artie waved one finger in front of Jim's face.

"Three," Jim smiled. "Trying to play doctor?"

"Be serious. How many fingers am I waving?"

"One," Jim sighed, and slowly sat up. Leaning his back against the wall of the car, he held his head.

George entered with a bucket of water and something to bide Jim's head with.

"Thank you," Artie smiled sarcastically as George left. "I'll ring if I need anything else."

Artemus grabbed a bandage, and after soaking it in some water he placed it on Jim's head. Then after thoroughly washing it, he slowly wound the rest of the bandages around Jim's head.

"There, that oughta hold you," he smiled at his handy work.

Jim rolled his eyes.

"Now, you can have the bed. Get some sleep; we'll think of a way out of this mess _after _you've had some rest."

"Not a half bad idea." Jim crawled onto the cot, and was out before his head landed on the pillow.

Artie smiled, then quickly turned his attention to the lone guard in the room. He was sitting at the table in the center of the car, with his feet propped up. His hat was pulled low over his face and he appeared to be sleeping.

"Hey!" Artie banged his tin cup on the bars.

The man pushed his hat back, frustration clear on his face. "What do you want?" he snapped.

"Cards. If you'd bring your table over here we could play." Artemus smiled at the guard's quizzical stare.

"You want to play cards?"

"Why not? I've got nothing else to do at the moment."

"Aren't you going to try to find a way to escape?"

"This is my cell, on my train, and I oversaw the construction of it. There's no way out of this cell unless you open that door."

The guard considered this for a moment. What Artie said made perfectly good sense, and he was bored anyway.

"Oh, alright." He dragged the table over to the bars and pulled out a deck of cards.

Artemus grabbed the only chair in the cell and seated himself as close to the table as he could get.

"Only problem is, I don't have anything to bet with," he stated as he arranged his cards.

"That's alright. Here," the guard produced a wad of bills from his pocket. "I took this off your friend there," he smiled. "The boss will take it as soon as he learns I have it, so you might as well use it."

Artemus smiled, "Why thank you. I always did like playing poker with someone else's money. By the way, what's your name?"

"Everybody calls me Sully," he answered, arranging his own cards.

"Fine. Everybody calls me Artie."

"No offense, but I think I'll stick to Gordon. If the boss caught me calling you by your front name, he'd skin me alive."

"Mind if I ask why you're so scared of him?" Artie asked.

Sully looked all around the room to make sure no one could hear them before making his reply. "It ain't him I'm scared of; it's the fellow he works for."

"Well, I was just wondering. It seems like a big fellow like you could take care of yourself." Artie longed to ask who Antoine was working for, but he didn't want Sully to get suspicious. He waited, hoping to ask more as the game went on.

They played a few hands and Artemus deliberately lost.

"Today ain't your day," Sully smiled as he raked in his third wining hands.

"It sure ain't." Artemus pretended to be annoyed. "Just what does your boss want with Dr. Thornton anyway?" he asked suddenly.

"I don't know," Sully shrugged, his eyes fixed on the money he had just won.

A sudden scream was heard from the other car, and both men froze. A second blood-curling scream followed, along with a low wail. Sully turned back to Artie, his face white.

"I'd sure hate to be that guy right now." He turned back to his cards with a shake of his head.

Another scream erupted and it continued for some time.

"That gives me the creeps," Sully shivered.

Artemus remained silent, his eyes glued to the door. There was no doubt in his mind who was screaming.

Antoine step back from the Doctor, irritated. They had the Doctor tied to a chair in Artemus' lab, and the Frenchman had been trying to get some information from Thornton. So far, the Doctor had given them nothing and Antoine was growing impatient.

The Doctor felt sick. Antoine had stuck him with the red-hot iron more times than he cared to count. _"Why should I sit here and suffer?" _he groggily thought. He knew he was close to passing out, and knew he was very close to giving Antoine what he wanted.

"Please!" he begged. "The agent knows."

"What are you talking about?" Antoine bellowed, roughly pulling Thornton up from the chair.

"Gordon knows. Ask him for the information." His voice faded out, and he slumped against Antoine unconscious.

Antoine pushed Thornton away, annoyed. "Take him to the cell," he snapped as he made his way to the parlor.

The guards in the parlor snapped to attention as he entered.

"Go to the prison car!" Antoine waved them away, "George, you stay here."

The other men quickly left, and George made his way over to Antoine who was helping himself to a drink.

"Thornton claims that Mr. Gordon knows the information we want." Antoine downed his drink. "What do you think? Should we try to get it from Mr. Gordon?"

"I don't know. He has a stronger will power. I would think he would be harder to crack than the Doctor," George replied skeptically.

"You are right, of course, but the Doctor is of no use to us for the moment, so we might as well try Gordon. Go fetch him and tie him up in the lab. I shall be there shortly."

George quickly left, and Antoine made himself comfortable on the couch. _"These agents sure know how to travel in style," _he sighed. _"It shall be such a pity to have to leave this train." _Again, he sighed loudly and started for the door. He had just placed his hand on the handle when a clicking came from behind. Sharply he turned and glanced about the room. However, he was unable to spot the telegraph. Irritated, he started to search the room, but still unable to find it, he started for the door.

George entered before he could reach it. "We have Mr. Gordon in place, sir."

"Fine, bring him…No, bring me…No, have someone bring Mr. West here. I want you to watch Mr. Gordon."

"Yes, sir!" George hurried to comply.

Antoine continued his search, but with the same amount of success.

Jim was pushed into the room and he glared angrily and at his captor, as he leaned on the table for support.

"Mr. West," Antoine smiled. "I'm in need of your assistance."

The telegraph began to click again and the Frenchman smiled. "You see, I cannot find where you have hidden it. Would you be so good as to show me?"

Jim smiled smugly, and slowly made his way over to the desk, the guard at his heels. Smacking the set of false books, the telegraph key popped out.

"How very clever!" Antoine smiled. "What does the message say?"

Jim sank into the chair at the desk, and forced his mind to focus. Slowly and painfully, he wrote the message out.

"It's from my superior; he wants to know if we are on our way yet," Jim finally said.

"Tell him you are, and tell him if all goes well you should be there by Wednesday," Antoine responded, after consulting his watch.

Jim typed exactly what Antoine ordered, and waited for acknowledgment. It was soon in coming.

"What do they want now?"

"They asked if we had solved the problem," Jim lied.

"Tell them, yes."

Slowly he made his reply, choosing his words carefully. He didn't want to send a long message or Antoine might get suspicious, but he had to alert Washington. Richmond responded that he understood, and they would take the necessary steps. James smiled.

"Is that all?"

"Yes," he pushed the key back into its hiding place.

"Good," Antoine rubbed his hands together and started for the door.

Jim, seeing his chance, made for one of the two pistols on the desk. His hand had just clasped around one, when the guard who had brought him in, brought the butt end of his rifle down on Jim's outstretched arm. There was a loud snap as the rifle butt came in contact with his arm. James' arm lay limp on the table and he clutched it with his other hand.

"That was very foolhardy of you, Mr. West." Antoine scolded.

"You can't blame a man for trying," Jim grunted.

The guard brought Jim to his feet and led him back to the cell. Sully met the guard at the door, and he noted the ashen color of the agent and the way he cradled his arm. Suddenly having pity on Jim, he took him from the guard, and put him in the cell himself. Then he dragged another bed into the cell, and placed Jim on it.

"You gone soft?" another man scoffed, as he watched Sully make the agent comfortable.

"No!" Sully snapped, "I just don't see why I can't help him." He left the cell and joined the men at the table.

They had moved it back to the center of the room and after dividing up Jim's money, had begun another game.

Jim laid on the cot, clutching his arm in pain. His head was pounding, and the room swayed slightly. Dr. Thornton occupied the other cot and was unconscious. Looking about the cell, he tried to find a way out. It made him sick to move his head, so he lay back down and was soon asleep.

Artemus silently waited for Antoine to return, pondering what the Frenchman would want with him. He was securely tied to a chair, and there were three guards standing in various places about the lab. At the moment, there was no hope of escape, and Artie waited for his fate to come. Antoine came shortly after, and he entered the room with a big to do.

"Mr. Gordon, I am delighted you could join us," he clasped Artie's hand.

"Why the party?"

"I'm afraid unless you corporate there won't be much of a party for you."

"I'll try my best," Artie smiled.

"I'm sure you will, Mr. Gordon. I'm looking forward to seeing how well you do. Now, tell me what I want to know and I'll leave you alone for the rest of the trip."

"All right, what do you want to know?"

"The formula to Dr. Thornton's drug," Antoine stated simply.

Artemus stared for some moments, taken aback. "I don't have it."

"Oh come now, Mr. Gordon. Dr. Thornton assured me you knew it."

"Well, maybe he was lying to save his own skin. Either way, I do not know what you are talking about."

"That could be true, but I doubt it. Thornton was almost out when he told me that, and I believe he was telling the truth."

"Believe what you will. I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You were sent here to stop the great Doctor, were you not?"

"Yes."

"And surely you knew why you were trying to stop him?"

"The Doctor had a device that could take over any mine he wanted. My mission was to destroy that machine and bring the Doctor back to Washington."

"But it's what made that machine run that has my superior interested."

"And who is your superior?" Artie snapped.

"That is for another time. Now I must have an answer to _my _question."

"Sorry, I do not have the answer to your question."

"I was afraid you would be difficult," Antoine sighed. Stepping away, he grabbed a letter opener from the lab table and swung it at Artemus. "You were recently shot," he stated more than asked.

"Yes."

"Here?" Antoine poked him with the letter opener.

"Yes," Artie answered. He saw no reason to lie. All they had to do was remove his shirt, and they'd see the healing wound.

"I see," Antoine had turned his back to him. Then suddenly he plunged the letter opener into Artemus' wound.

Artie stared at him open mouthed, then he glanced down as Antoine slowly pulled the letter opener out. The other men in the room were astonished that their boss would make such an attack, but they said nothing. Artemus remained staring at his side, on the verge of passing out.

"You see, Mr. Gordon, I can become quite unpleasant when I feel like it," he smiled, as he wiped the letter opener on a cloth.

Artie was finally able the tear his eyes away from the growing red spot on his shirt and looked at Antoine.

"So I see," he gasped.

Antoine laughed, "I shall always remember you and Mr. West. Sarcastic down to the last breath."

"Glad we could accommodate you."

Artemus had gone pale, and his skin was cold and clammy. Antoine knew that he had been foolish to stab him but the Frenchman had long since lost his patience. Hoping that his attack would draw the agent out, he crouched close to Artie's face.

"The formula, Mr. Gordon."

Artie smiled. Antoine struck him with his hand, then grabbed him by his lapel and shook him.

"The formula now!"

Artemus groaned and turned his head away. "I don't have it!" He was swaying on the verge of unconsciousness.

Antoine let him fall back in a heap in the chair. The Frenchman walked about the room, running his hand through his hair. He was in great need of speed, and all he was getting was setbacks. He needed a different approach. Smiling, he pulled out his flask and gave some of it to Artie.

"You see, I can also be very charming." Antoine had his men untie the agent, and they help him to the leather Chaise longue. "There, this should be much more comfortable," he smiled.

Artemus let his eyes roll shut as he wondered what the Frenchman was up to. Antoine went back to pacing.

"Mr. Gordon, I'm trying to be very accommodating. I would really dislike having to cause you any further pain, but I must have the formula," Antoine said, trying to sound desperate.

"How can I give you what I do not have?" Artie whispered.

Antoine moved away, annoyed. _"Perhaps the agent is telling the truth. Maybe Thornton lied?" _He leaned on the counter by the lab sink, and clutched it angrily. His temper was short, and he had lost it with Thornton. Artemus was feeling the brunt of it.

Something in the sink caught Antoine's eye, and he moved his hand down to grab it. It was the bowl Artemus had been using earlier. The bowl was now empty, because Artie had been in the process of dumping it out when Jim had entered with George. However, the bowl had been stained green, and it was that that Antoine noticed. Gripping the bowl, he hurried back to Artemus.

"What was in this bowl?" He thrust it in the agent's face.

"Something I was working on."

"No! No this is it! You recreated it! No more games, Mr. Gordon! You must tell me how you made this."

"I don't remember." Artie slid his feet off the couch, and raised himself to a sitting position.

Antoine let him sit up, watching the agent intently. Artemus sat with his head in his hands staring at the floor. He did remember how he made that substance but he wasn't going to tell Antoine.

"_I guess you're not as clever as you thought,"_ Artie mocked himself. That morning he had wholeheartedly believed he was the first to discover the green mess, as he had dubbed it.

"Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to let George have a crack at you?"

Artemus didn't move. Antoine grabbed a handful of his hair and forced his head up.

"Well, Mr. Gordon?"

Artemus glared at Antoine, but said nothing. The Frenchman released his grasp and angrily turned to George, giving him the okay.

George cracked his knuckles and smiled as he came closer to the agent. He had been wanting a way to get back at them, and now was his chance. Artemus ignored him. George grabbed the agent's shirtfront and pulled him to his feet. Artemus' expression remained the same, although he had gone notably paler. George made a fist and drew it back to strike Artie.

"Wait!" Antoine stopped him. "I have an idea. Go get Mr. West."

A guard moved for the door and was stopped by Artemus.

"No, wait!" he sighed. "Alright, you win. Just give me a second to collect my thoughts, would you?"

Antoine nodded and George let go. Artie's knees buckled and he fell back onto the chaise lounge. Running his fingers through his hair, he stood and stumbled to the table. Sinking into the chair, Artemus began writing in the notebook. It took him some time, and when he was done, he dropped the pencil. Antoine smiled, looked at the paper, and nodded for two guards to take Artie back to the cell.

Antoine walked about the room with a smile on his face. He held in his hand the notebook and clutched it tightly.

"We have it!" he smiled at George. "We finally have it!"

12


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Artemus leaned heavily on his guards, pretending he needed their help. He had only given Antoine half of the formula, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the Frenchman realized this.

The hall they walked through was very narrow, so the guards had to walk sideways as they dragged Artie for the door. Artemus waited until one of the guards turned his back to open the door, before making an effort to escape. He kicked the guard behind him, and struck the one in front of him on the neck. They both crumpled to the ground, and Artie stepped over them as he made for the door leading out of the car. However, one of his two captors had been playing possum, and grabbed the agent's legs, sending him sprawling.

_"That was brilliant." _Artie thought, as the ground rose up to meet him.

Antoine stopped in mid-stride when he heard the scuffle. With quick steps, he walked to the door and threw it wide. His two henchmen were getting to their feet and the agent was out cold.

"How did this happen?" he snapped. "Can't you control _one_ man?"

"Yes, sir, sorry sir,"' his men said in unison as they gathered up the agent and dragged him the rest of the way to the cell. They dumped Artemus on the floor and went to join the card game.

Artie cracked an eye and glanced about him. His pretense to be unconscious had only saved him from embarrassment, not pain. The presence of a broken leg was making itself known. Artemus swallowed a groan, and without moving looked about the room. No one seemed to be paying the prisoners any mind, they were all too busy with their poker game.

Sighing slightly, he moved his head and glanced at Jim. His friend was holding his arm in an awkward way, and Artie guessed it was broken too. _"Well, we're a lovely pair." _He thought with a smile. _"We'd make half of a lovely couple."_

Chancing a glance back at the guards, he laid his head back down. No one had seen him move and at the moment he didn't want them to know he was awake.

The train clicked with the tracks, and swayed as it hurried on its way to some unknown destination. Artemus was lying with his ear to the floor, and despite the uncomfortable position he was soon asleep. He had not wanted to fall asleep, and had tried very hard to remain awake. But the soft click and swaying of the train finally won out and the agent drifted off to sleep.

Antoine's pacing had long since stopped, and he was sitting at the lab table studying the notebook. George stood some feet behind him, with his hands clasped behind his back. The Frenchman gave a frustrated grunt and turn to George in rage.

"That government agent only gave me half of the formula!" His hand gripped his cane so hard his knuckles had gone white. He started for the door, then stopped.

George watched Antoine, moving uncomfortably. He was slightly scared of Antoine at the moment. The Frenchman seemed to be trying to get his temper under control before he went and confronted the agent. With a final sigh, he opened the door and stepped out. George followed some seconds later.

Chairs were hastily pushed back, and rifles were quickly found when Antoine entered the car.

"Open this door," Antoine snapped.

Sully stepped forward and swiftly had the door open. Antoine nudged Artemus with his foot, but the agent didn't move. Kneeling next to him, Antoine smacked his face, but Artie still did not move. Looking up with frustration, he saw Thornton's scared eyes staring at him from the bed. Antoine smiled.

"Bring that man to the lab," he instructed, pointing at Thornton.

Two more men hastily complied, and Antoine left as quickly as he had come. The other occupants of the room sighed and went back to their game. Sully moved the agent from the floor to the bed that the Doctor had just vacated.

"What's the matter with you?" Matt snapped as he glanced from his cards to Sully.

"Nothing's wrong with me! But Antoine will be mad if this man dies."

"He ain't goin' to die!" Matt mocked.

"Well, no. But if he did, I'd get blamed and at the moment I don't really want to face Antoine."

Artemus had been vaguely aware of the conversation taking place, and he cracked an eye. Sully's boyish face was inches from his own, and the agent instinctively tried to back away.

"See!" Matt bellowed when he saw Artie move. "He's just fine. Now git over here, or I'm goin' to take your winnings."

"Oh alright!" Sully hurried from the cell and over to the table.

Artemus waited until the men were engrossed in their game before making a move. Carefully lifting his hand, he pulled on his friend's boot. Jim's eyes opened to slits and he glanced down at his partner. A smile spread across Artemus' face, and Jim returned the smile. Artemus slowly moved his eyes to the door, Jim followed them. Sully, in his haste, had left the cell door unlocked. Jim nodded his understanding, and Artemus tapped a pocket. Jim tapped his boot heel, and the two agents smiled at one another.

Antoine circled the Doctor, waving a red hot iron rod as he went. Thornton moved uncomfortably as Antoine walked about him.

"Please Antoine, you know I can't give you the rest of the formula." Thornton kept his eyes on the iron rod, which came closer with each pass.

"If you hadn't double-crossed me, then you wouldn't be in this predicament, now would you?" Antoine leaned down into the Doctor's face.

"But if I had stayed with you, you would have double-crossed me as soon as I had finished the formula," Thornton accused.

"Now that is not true, I needed you. But all that is beside the point. You see, Doctor, I had promised the drug to another, and he has already paid me for it. He is coming to pick it up the day after tomorrow. I must and will have it waiting for him."

Thornton swallowed as the iron rod was put close to his face. "Take me with you, and I shall tell you all you want to know."

Antoine laughed heartily, "Do you really think I can trust you? No Doctor, you making a fool of me once is quite enough. But I will promise to let you live, if you tell me what I want to know."

Thornton looked around the room in desperation. Licking his lips he glanced back at the Frenchman. His body still ached, and he was not interested in getting jabbed with the iron again. He did not want to give away his powerful formula. Used in the right way, a person could control the world, and Antoine knew how to use it.

With one last fleeting glimpse, he turned back to Antoine. "Alright, you win," he sighed.

"Good!" Antoine smiled and presented the Doctor with the notebook.

Thornton examined the handwriting with a slight smile. Then grabbing up the pencil he finished out the formula. He handed the notebook to Antoine when he was done, and the Frenchman almost cried out with glee as he grasped the book.

"Take the Doctor and lock him up in the bedroom," Antoine snapped at George.

"Which one?" his henchman replied.

"Why should I care which one? Choose one. There's three of them, have your pick." Antoine waved him away impatiently.

George quickly complied. Antoine cleared the room, and sat at the table with a satisfied smile. Tearing the page from the notebook, he flipped it over and began to draw.

Jim lay with his head slightly propped up, starring out the open window. Sully had grown weary of his friend's cigarette's smoke and had opened it. It didn't help the younger man much, and he had left the car. That left five men in the car. If Jim had been feeling better, he knew he could have taken all five. However, with his arm broken, he doubted he could take two. That left three for Artie, but Jim knew his friend would be lucky if he could handle one.

Then there was the problem of one of the guards noticing the unlocked door. Jim doubted they would, but if Antoine came back he most definitely would. Neither agent had anything to open the door if it was locked again. Then there was Artie. Jim knew the other agent was trying to hide a broken leg. Not that there was much either one of them could do about it at the moment, and to some extent he had stopped worrying about it. Anyway, if he brought it up Artemus would only badger him about his broken arm and slight concussion. So for the moment he said nothing.

Sighing heavily, Jim slowly sat up. The room spun for a few moments, making him feel sick. It angered him, and he shook his head trying to clear it. That made matters worse, and he quickly stopped. Artemus was smiling at him from his perch and Jim glared back.

"And what are you so pleased about?" he asked.

"Well, it just reminds me of a few days ago." Artie continued to smile.

"What reminds you of a few days ago?"

"You just seemed to be slightly dizzy."

"Yeah, so?" Jim's face had an irritated look.

"Nothing, I just remember waking up like that a few days ago, in the back of a wagon." Artemus looked accusingly at his partner. "I just thought for a moment that you were getting your payback." He smiled.

Jim glared, "Artie, if that's your sick attempt at humor I wish you'd keep it to yourself. I have more important things to think about."

"I think I was just insulted. But never mind," Artemus waved his friend away as he pulled himself up. "There, now there are two brains instead of one," he smiled. "I think I could get us out of here, but I'd like it if we could even the odds a little."

"That was my problem. There's too many of them."

"Then, we must change the odds," Artemus smiled, and pulled a knife from under the bed sheets.

Dr. Thornton looked about the room with worry. He guessed he was in the guest room, for he had searched the closet but had found no clothes. _"Why would Antoine keep me locked up in here? I thought he had no use for me? Wouldn't he just throw me back into the cell?" _The skinny Doctor pondered this, as he looked for a way out. There was none, so he relaxed on the bed. Deciding that he would worry about his problems afterhe got some sleep, Thornton gladly drifted off.

"Doctor? Sir?" Someone was shaking him from his sleep, and he tried to push them away. Couldn't they see all he wanted was some sleep? The shaking and calling persisted and the good Doctor was inclined to answer.

"What?" he finally managed somewhat drowsily and with a slight hint of annoyance.

"Mr. Moreau requests that you join him for dinner." George was donned in a waiter's uniform, and he bowed cordially to Thornton.

Thornton stared at him for some moments not knowing what to say. George took a tux he had draped over his arm and laid it at the foot of the bed.

"Please, sir. If you would wear that, Mr. Moreau would be most grateful. I do apologize if it does not fit." He turned and left.

The Doctor stared after him for some moments before crawling out of the bed and trying on the tuxedo. It was slightly short in the legs, and the arms were a bit too loose, but Thornton decided it would work for now. Trying the door handle he was surprised when it opened, poking his head out, he looked around. No one was in sight, and Thornton made his way to the parlor. There was one fleeting moment when he had thought about trying to escape, but the Doctor quickly put it out of his mind. There was no way to get off a moving train.

Antoine rose from his seat on the golden couch to welcome his guest. "I'm so glad you could make it. Please have a seat." He directed the Doctor to one of the two chairs at the table.

"I don't understand," Thornton said as he took his seat at the finely-laid table.

"These agents have exquisite taste, wouldn't you say?" Antoine asked, also taking a seat.

"Yes," Thornton agreed looking at the gold place settings. "But I still do not understand why you have brought me here."

"Oh, it is simple enough. I do not wish to dine alone and thought I would have you join me."

This reply satisfied Thornton's curiosity, and he sank back in his chair thankfully. Antoine rang a bell and George entered with the first course.

"He is a magnificent man, is he not?" Antoine questioned Thornton. "George has many talents; one of them is being a waiter. That's why I keep him around, you know. He knows how to act in all situations."

Thornton smiled pleasantly, but he couldn't have cared less.

The meal, much to the Doctors surprise, was a pleasant one. The two men spent the remainder of their time together talking about Europe. Both of them had spent a great amount of time there and they both missed it.

Antoine had learned from his sources that Thornton had been born in New York, but his family had sent him to England for his education. He had spent close to twenty years studying and traveling around Europe. If it hadn't been for the sudden death of his father, Jason Thornton, he would still be there. His father had died a wealthy man in Texas, and had left his wealth to his only son, Colin Thornton. The Civil War had not reached far enough south to touch the ranch, and Jason had managed to remain a wealthy man though others lost everything. Unfortunately, two weeks after Dr. Colin Thornton had returned, the house burned to the ground taking everything with it. The Doctor had then moved to Kansas where Antoine had met him, and Antoine had funded Thornton to finish his research.

"Thank you, Doctor, for a most pleasant evening," Antoine smiled approvingly as their meal concluded. Raising his hand slightly, he rang the bell. "I hope you have a pleasant night."

George entered and led the Doctor back to his room. Thornton tried the door handle but found it locked. Sighing he removed his dinner attire and went to sleep.

Artie observed the guards with a somewhat amused expression as they argued over their poker game. From what Artemus had been able to gather, Matt claimed that Sully was cheating. The other occupants at the table were inclined to doubt Matt, and an argument had broken out. They had played the entire night and, judging by the light in the car, Artie guessed it was now close to eight o'clock.

Jim nudged Artie with his foot and Artemus turned his head.

"There's no time like the present," Jim whispered. "I can't see getting a better distraction than the one we have now."

Artemus nodded his head and tested his leg. "I don't know, Jim. I'm not sure I can go anywhere with this leg of mine. At least not without something to help me walk."

"What is in your pocket?"

"All I have left is a smoke bomb." Artie after making sure no one was watching, pulled it from his pocket. "What do you have?"

James smiled and pulled the heels off his boots. He took two silver balls from each heel. "These bombs," he smiled mischievously, "I think I have enough here."

"I'd say, but I'd hate to have to use them. They'll mess up the inside of this car."

"True, I was kinda hoping not to have to use them in here. But with you unable to walk I might have to."

The argument suddenly started to quiet down and both agents sent anxious glances in that direction.

"Artie, do you think you could do something to provoke them further? If we could get them fighting amongst themselves…"

Artemus smiled. "Hey!" he yelled.

The whole table turned and glared at him.

"I couldn't help but overhear your argument and I thought you might be interested to know that the Ace of Spades is lying under Matt's chair."

Matt's face went white and the other six players glared at him.

"And you called me a cheater!" Sully snapped, his eye's narrowing on Matt.

"I…It must of fallen from the deck," Matt stammered as he stooped to pick it up.

"Sure it did!" Lan snapped.

"You've been winning all evening too." Sully jumped from his chair and made for Matt.

Matt shrieked and jumped back. The whole table made a lunge for him, and soon had him pinned to the floor.

Jim smiled as he watched them. He had been slowly making his way to the cell door, and when they pounced he bolted out the door. No one noticed, and he quickly acquired a forgotten rifle.

"Alright!" Jim snapped, leveling the rifle at the scuffling men.

The men froze.

"Drop you guns and walk away."

The gunmen slowly turned and glanced at Jim. He held the rifle in his left hand, and the barrel resting on his right arm.

Matt smiled, "There's only one of you and seven of us. What makes you think we'll just give in?"

"I've got nothing to lose, like you do." James smiled but it held no humor.

Antoine readjusted the newspaper as he finished his breakfast. Thornton had been once more brought from his room to join the Frenchman, and he too was indulging in a paper. When the clock in the room struck nine, Antoine placed his paper aside and turned to Thornton.

"Doctor," he began, "I have been wanting to talk to you about the other day."

Thornton put his newspaper down.

"You see, I wanted to apologize for the rough treatment you received. I was most desperate to obtain the formula and I'm afraid I might have said and done some things that I now wish I hadn't." The Frenchman arose. "I would be most honored if you would come back with me. I know our trust in each other is slightly shaken at the moment, but I'm sure over time that will mend." He smiled and held out his hand, "Truce?"

Thornton studied him warily for a moment, but then with a slight smile he accepted the hand.

"Good!" The Frenchman smiled. "We shall be leaving this train soon, and I have a few loose ends to tie up. Would you care to join me?"

Thornton smiled. "I would consider it an honor if you allowed me to kill Mr. Gordon myself."

"The honor is yours."

The two men smiled and left the parlor headed for the cell car, with George at their heels. The sight that greeted Antoine shocked him.

He had stopped with his hand on the handle, staring in at the car through the door window. His henchmen were locked up in the cell and the two agents were sitting at the table. They seemed to be readying themselves for his entrance. Antoine threw the door back and boldly stepped into the room.

"Mr. West! What it the meaning of this?"

Jim looked about the room with a smile, "Oh, well, Artie and I decided we were tired of the loud company."

Antoine glared and made for the cell.

"Stay right where you are." Jim leveled the gun.

"Mr. West, really?" Antoine frowned. "How do you think you can take three of us?"

James smiled. "Well, I just took seven. I think I can handle three more."

"Surely, Mr. West, you do not believe I am as easy an opponent as those six? They couldn't find their way out of a dark room with a lantern in their hand." He gestured somewhat irritably in the prisoners' direction.

The train swayed suddenly as they went around a turn, then slowed considerably as they mounted a hill. Antoine stopped, paled slightly, and went to look out the window. He swore, then turned back to George.

"How could it be? I was sure we had more time." His mind seemed to readjust and he started barking orders. "George, get those men out of there now! Thornton, you need to wrap your business up quickly."

George started for the cell, but stopped as Jim raised his gun. Antoine, who had just finished sliding the side door open, turned back and glared at George.

"Now!" he bellowed.

With a shrug, the henchman started forward. Jim fired and to Artemus' surprise, missed. There wasn't time for James to fire again, so he attempted to hit George with his rifle. Again he missed, and the henchman reached out and grabbed Jim's broken arm. Artemus cringed as he heard bone scrape against bone. The color drained from Jim's face and he fell to the ground.

Artie suddenly cursed his stupidity and grabbed for his rifle. However, Thornton had moved from the door and placed a derringer at Artemus' temple. Artie lunged forward as Thornton pulled the trigger. The agent slammed his elbow into the Doctor's stomach as he watched the henchmen jump from the train onto waiting horses.

_"How in the world did Antoine plan that?" _Artemus thought. as he stumbled for the door.

The last of the henchmen jumped, and Antoine beckoned Thornton right before jumping himself.

Jim watched as the Doctor raced for the door._ "I can't let him get away!" _he thought. Dragging himself to his feet, he reached out and grabbed Thornton's collar, and with the last of his strength, pulled him back into the car.

The train leveled out, and they went around another turn leaving Antoine and his men behind.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Jim awoke to the sound and feeling of complete stillness. No rocking, no clicking, nothing. Groggily he forced his eyes open. He was lying on his back in what he guessed was a hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. Slowly he allowed his eyes to wander about the room, and they eventually landed on the bed next to his. Artemus was still asleep, and slowly Jim moved his eyes back to the ceiling.

"_How did I get here?" _he suddenly thought, as he struggled to sit up. His head was tightly bound and his arm was in a sling, making mobility difficult. He did, however, finally get himself into a semi-comfortable position. He again wondered how he had arrived here, since the last thing he could remember was pulling Thornton back onto the train. His head hurt worse when he tried to remember, so he eventually gave up on it, deciding it wasn't worth the headache. _"Besides," _he reasoned, _"Artie can fill me in when he wakes up."_ With that he settled against his pillows and was soon lost in his own imagination.

"Let me guess," Artie began, startling Jim. "We've been condemned to this room until further notice." Artemus huffed as he surveyed the room.

"I really wouldn't know, Artie. I haven't seen anyone since I woke up, which was a few moments ago."

"Where are we?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you could tell me."

The sudden sound of the door handle turning, caused both agents to look anxiously at the door as it slowly opened. In walked Colonel Richmond with a slightly surprised look on his face.

"Gentleman, the doctor was quite sure you'd sleep for another hour. Oh, well, so much the better." He smiled and placed a chair in between the two beds. The agents watched him without comment. He took a folder from his briefcase and placed it on his lap with a smile.

Both agents knew the Colonel was waiting for them to initiate the conversation, but neither agent wanted to oblige him. Artemus, however, had always been a curious man, and his curiosity finally got the better of him.

"How long have we been here, sir?" he asked.

"Mr. Gordon, you and Mr. West have been out for a week."

"A week!" they said in unison.

"Sir, where are we?" Jim asked.

"Fredericksburg, Virginia. I would have taken you all the way to Washington, but the doctor thought it best we stop here. It seems, gentlemen, that you were drugged. Mr. Cobb, your engineer, found you unconscious when he went to investigate, after noticing that Monsieur Moreau was no longer on the train. He then proceeded to lock Thornton up, and take you two to the nearest town with a doctor. I was informed soon after, and had you transported here so that you might receive better treatment. You have been here two days now." The Colonel sat back in his chair and smiled at his flabbergasted agents.

"So you have Dr. Thornton in custody?" Artie finally mumbled.

"Yes Mr. Gordon, and I'm sending two of my best agents after Antoine Moreau." The Colonel said this statement in such a way that the agents knew there was more to follow shortly. But for the moment their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Dr. Lone.

The Doctor, a medium height man with cold, gray eyes, surveyed his patients with a serious brow. His lips were a thin line stretched across his face, and his black hair was slicked down across his forehead.

"Mr. West, Mr. Gordon," he greeted in a deep, slow voice. "I'm glad to see that you're awake."

His hands were clasped behind his back, and he looked as if he were about to give a lecture to a medical class. Slowly he examined Jim, then he moved to Artemus, then he made his way back to the front of the room and stood just behind Richmond's chair.

"Gentlemen," he drawled, "I'm afraid I must keep you here for two weeks. You, Mr. West, have suffered a concussion, and I would like to keep you here for observational purposes. Mr. Gordon, your side has become somewhat infected and I would like to make sure it heals properly."

Inwardly both agents groaned. Two whole weeks locked up in a small hospital room with nothing to do.

"And gentlemen, you will do as Dr. Lone says." Richmond glared at them both.

The agents were known for their dislike of hospitals, and on more than one occasion had managed to escape. They had tried the Colonel's and President's patience on more than one instance.

"To ensure that you both stay put, I have posted a guard outside this room," Richmond glared.

"Yes, sir," the agents mumbled.

"_Sheesh! We haven't even tried anything yet, and he's already posting guards. Makes you feel like you're in a prison!" _Jim thought with distaste. It was true that he was already intending _not_ to stay the full two weeks, but he hadn't been planning to escape his first day there.

"Good," the Colonel smiled and rose to leave. "I shall let you two get some sleep then."

* * *

Colonel Richmond left the room with Dr. Lone in step behind him. Turning to the Doctor, Richmond inquired, "So, you see no after effects from the drug?"

"None that will do them any harm. I think your agents should be fit for duty in six weeks."

Richmond nodded his head. "Yes, I understand. I just hope those two never get wind of this." He tapped his briefcase.

"Heaven help us if they did," Dr. Lone agreed.

* * *

"Well Artie, what do you think?"

"Think about what?" Artemus yawned.

"Staying here."

"I'm not staying here with that creepy doctor for two weeks."

Jim smiled, "Good. Now we need a way out."

"Sure, right after I get some sleep." Artie yawned again, and was soon fast asleep.

Jim smiled, "I guess you were tired," he teased his sleeping partner. But as soon as he relaxed against his own pillows, sleep overwhelmed him and he quickly joined Artie. Exhaustion from the trip and some slight side effects from the drug had taken their toll on the agents and they fell into a deep sleep.

When Jim awoke again it was night. The lamp on the wall was turned low, casting a strange orange glow about the room. Artemus was no longer in the bed next to his. With a worried expression, Jim climbed out of his bed. Swaying slightly as he stood up, he waited a moment before going in search of his partner. His suit was hanging up in the room and there was evidence that Artie's had once hung there as well. With much difficulty he dressed himself in his sharp, fitted blue suit, and discarded the hospital garb with distaste. Proudly, he cocked his black hat and started for the door.

"_Boots!" _he smiled, _"I forgot my shoes."_ But after a closer inspection of the closet he realized his shoes weren't there. "

"Just like Richmond to think of everything," he grumbled as he contemplated what to do. Just as he was about to go out the door, Jim heard someone coming down the hall. With quick desperation, he jumped back into bed and pulled the sheets up to his chin.

In walked Colonel Richmond with President Grant. Jim pretended to be sleeping.

"_Oh boy!"_ he thought. _"We're in for it now."_

Jim's hat had fallen to the floor in his haste, and fortunately it had landed just under the edge of the bed.

"Where's Mr. Gordon?" Grant whispered to Richmond.

"I'm not sure, sir. But no need to worry, he didn't leave this room. The guards outside assured me that no one has left this room."

"Well, where is he?" Grant sounded slightly amused.

"I don't know."

Because the lamp was dim, neither man noticed the hat poking out from under Jim's bed or the pile of hospital clothes in front of the closet.

Richmond started for the lamp and was about to turn it up when someone burst into the room.

"Colonel Richmond! Mr. President, sir! You're wanted right away!" A young man had run into the room out of breath, bubbling with excitement.

"Shhh!" the two officials snapped at once.

"You'll pay dearly if you wake Mr. West." Grant snapped in a hushed whisper.

"Yes, sir," the young man replied, whispering.

Richmond made sure the noise had not awakened Jim, then hurriedly left the room with the President.

Jim let out a sigh of relief and crawled from bed. Retrieving his hat from the floor, he once more proudly placed it on his head.

"I thought we were goners for sure," Artemus stated, as he crawled from under his bed.

"Artie! Have you been there this whole time?" James cried.

"I sure have," Artie smiled. "I was planning on letting you know I was here, before we were so rudely interrupted." Jim helped him to his feet. "Now, James my boy, if you care to reach under my bed you'll find our shoes and a pair of crutches."

Jim did as told and with a smile he brandished his boots. "Artie, how did you get these?"

"Richmond can't think of everything," Artie smiled.

They helped one another into their boots, which was a rather comical thing, then slowly made for the door.

"No, Jim, it's no good," Artie said, thinking it better to not open the door. "We're going to have to think of another way out."

"The window," Jim shrugged, and threw it open. "How nice of Richmond to put us on the first floor," he mumbled sarcastically, as he stepped out.

Getting Artie out of the window was another story. After much tugging and a lot of swearing, he finally tumbled out. Jim closed the window after them and the pair started on their way.

Slowly they worked their way around to the front of the building.

"Look," Artemus pointed, "Isn't that your horse?"

"So it is," Jim replied, very surprised. "I wonder what he's doing here."

"Never mind, just count your blessings and get us out of here."

Jim whistled softly and the horse immediately pricked its ears. Glancing about to make sure no one was around, Jim whistled again. This time the horse whinnied back, and merrily trotted to his master.

Artemus, with Jim's help, mounted first, then lent a hand to Jim. Artemus had discarded the crutches, claiming that they were too conspicuous and rather bothersome to use. James agreed reluctantly. Slowly they started out.

"Artie, as much as I hate to admit this, my head feels like it weighs a ton and I'm not sure I can tell up from down." Jim's head promptly fell against Artie's back. "Will you take the reins?"

"Sure," Artemus took them from Jim. "You know, we might have just done a very stupid thing."

Jim laughed, "Well at least we did it together."

The horse's hooves echoed down the lonely cobblestone street as they made for the train station. Fredericksburg at night was a sad sight. The trees that lined the streets dipped and swayed sadly, in and out of the street lights. Artemus observed them with a shiver. It was the beginning of spring, and the trees had just started to bud making their branches seem like claws in the night. A cold wind was blowing, and Artemus knew it was going to rain soon.

Artie was not a man easily scared, but the side-effects form the drug had heightened certain senses. He found himself battling to keep his imagination from taking over. _"How I hate the after effects of being drugged," _he thought as movement caught his eye and he had to force himself to not be scared.

They were close to the only ones on that street, but a coach from the hospital sat on the corner. "_Probably waiting to pick someone up." _Artie thought, as he rounded a corner down a broad street. The traffic increased as he neared his destination, and Artie felt his nerves relax.

People hoping to catch a night train, freight wagons going to get their shipments, or parked along the side delivering shipments, lined and hurried down the street past the agents. No one noticed Artie as he guided the horse down the well-lit street.

"You know, our escape was rather easy," Artie mumbled.

"Hmm?" Jim asked without moving his head or opening his eyes.

"Oh, I was just thinking how Richmond is going to have our hides when he finds out we've escaped."

"Which is why we must hurry for the train."

"Partners in crime― it has a nice ring to it." Artie smiled and Jim chuckled.

The train station loomed up ahead, and Artemus searched for the Wanderer. It wasn't very hard to spot. The fancy train stood out amongst the rest. The lights in the parlor were on and the train looked ready to move.

"_That's odd," _Artie thought, _"How would Orrin know to have things ready?" _things got even stranger, for as he pulled up at the car, Orrin was standing there waiting for him. He helped Jim down, then Artie.

"Got company," Orrin hooked a thumb in the direction of the parlor car as he led Jim's horse away.

The agents exchanged puzzled glances before mounting the steps into the car. Upon entering, they saw no one. Slowly they made their way for the couch, and saw a grey head laid against the cushion.

"Miguelito Loveless!" both agents cried at once.

"I should have known," Artemus sighed as he sat on the couch opposite the little man. "Our escape was _way_ too easy."

"Easy!" Loveless scoffed. "Mr. Gordon, you have no idea how complicated your escape was."

"You helped us escape?" Artie asked, but Loveless only smiled.

Jim hung up his hat and joined Artemus on the couch.

"I wonder what the good Doctor wants _this_ time," he asked, directing his question at Artemus, not Loveless.

"Beats me," Artie shrugged.

"Don't you two wish to know how I got you out of the hospital?" Loveless asked, a small pout starting to form.

"No," Jim shook his head. He knew the best way to get Loveless to tell him everything was to just ignore him.

"Mr. West, you are infuriating!" the dwarf pouted. "I just spent two whole days crafting a plan to get you two out of there, and now you don't even want to know how. Why, I had to blow up a section of the federal building here in Fredericksburg."

Despite trying to look non-interested, both agents glared at him.

"Nothing much, gentlemen, I assure you." Loveless held up his hands. "But I had to do something big enough to get the Colonel to call off his guards. Do you realize he had two men posted outside your room, two men outside your window, several men patrolling the halls, and two men at the front entrance? It would have taken an army to get into that place, so I chose a much easier tactic." He smiled and clasped his hands in his lap. "So you see, Mr. Gordon, your escape was not as easy as you think. I had to time everything just right, to ensure that no one would be around when you two went out the window. Oh, don't look so astonished, I knew you'd choose the window as your avenue of escape." He waved off their surprised looks.

The train had long since started to move, and rain pelted the window as they bustled along. Artemus glanced at it as he considered all Loveless had said.

"Why did you do all that for us?" Artie demanded. "I've never known you to do something so generous in all your life."

"Oh really, Mr. Gordon, are you that dense? Can you not see that I am in need of your help?"

"The Great Dr. Loveless is in need of our help?" Jim smiled humorously. He found it uncommonly funny that the man who had sworn to kill them now needed them.

"Yes, Mr. West, I don't see why that is so funny," Loveless face fell to a frown. "Of course I don't know how much help you two will be." He surveyed their wounds with a frown that changed to a smile. "No matter. It should take us about two or three weeks to get to California."

"Three weeks on your time?" Artie asked. There was no way, unless Loveless dawdled, that it was going to take them two to three weeks to get to California.

"On my time, Mr. Gordon. Now let me have a look at your wounds so I might assess the damage." He hopped down from his chair and both agents recoiled instantly. "Oh!" he laughed. "I see you are not willing to trust me."

He waved them off, and proceeded to check Jim first, then moved to Artemus. "Well, I've seen you both in better health, but that cannot be helped, now can it?" Loveless laughed again. "Now I shall expect you two to do your utmost in getting better. I need you ready to roll in six weeks. That's all the time I'll let you have." He rattled off his demands as if he expected the agents to be willing to do as he said.

"Oh, I haven't told you what I'm about, now have I?" Loveless suddenly stopped pacing and looked back at the agents. "I'm sure you have both become well acquainted with Antoine Moreau. I have as well. Antoine worked for me, and I sent him to retrieve Dr. Thornton, who I now understand is in the federal prison." He looked somewhat angrily at the agents. "I had bought the drug from Antoine, and was to have had it yesterday, only Antoine double-crossed me and ran off with my money _and_ the drug."

"So you want us to help you retrieve him. But what's to ensure that you don't turn on us once we get him back?" Jim asked.

"Mr. West, I am no longer interested in the drug. All I want is Antoine. You may do whatever you like about the drug. I no longer care."

"That's nice, but it doesn't answer the question," Artie persisted.

"Oh Mr. Gordon, you bore me." Loveless frowned at him. "I do not wish to harm you or Mr. West. All I'm interested in now is getting Antoine."

"We could just chuck you off the train and go after Antoine ourselves. Why do we need you?" Jim asked as he poured himself a drink.

"Because, Mr. West, you do not know where to find Antoine, I do, and believe me you'll never be able to find him by yourselves."

"Still, Doctor, what is to stop you from killing us once we've retrieved Moreau for you?"

"Mr. Gordon!" Loveless snapped. "I need you! Why do you think I came and acquired your help? Because I know that the only ones who will be able to get me in, and more importantly, out of Antoine's fort is you two. Besides, don't you think you have the upper hand? There's two of you and only one of me."

"I've never known that to stop you before," Artie mumbled.

* * *

"Got away! How could you have let them escape?" Richmond bellowed, standing inches from the sergeant's face.

"Sir, my instructions were to stay outside that door and let no one in or out, and I was to follow those orders to the letter or else," the sergeant pleaded.

"Yes sergeant, I'm aware of what your orders were." Richmond relaxed and went to stand behind his desk. "You did a good job sergeant; I realize it was not your fault. That's all." He dismissed the man and the sergeant quickly left, happy to be getting away from Colonel Richmond and his temper. In his haste, he nearly ran into the President.

"Watch where you're walking, son." Grant let the sergeant maneuvered around him then walked into the office. "I heard you had news for me," he greeted as he entered Richmond's office. The President had not yet learned of the agents' escape and Richmond was dreading having telling him.

"Yes, sir. Please have a seat. I have not fully informed you of the situation, and I should like to do so now before I tell you my other news."

"Proceed."

"When we first learned of Antoine Moreau's involvement, I naturally had a file check done on him to see if we had any files on the man. It so happens we do, and after reading them I found that Antoine is well acquainted with Dr. Loveless. Naturally this information concerned me, and I had some more checking done and found that Antoine is currently employed by Dr. Loveless."

"I see," the President shifted in his chair. If there was one man he hated dealing with it was Loveless.

"Mr. President, the explosion at the federal building tonight was no accident. It was deliberately done by Loveless himself." Richmond waited a moment for the information to sink in. "Also, Mr. West and Mr. Gordon disappeared shortly after our departure from the hospital room."

"What! How? You had enough men posted in that building to hold off an army!"

"And I had to take most of them away to deal with the explosion."

Grant had risen from his chair and was furiously pacing the office. "Well, they couldn't have gotten far."

"I'm afraid they could have. It seems they left on the Wanderer, heading west. My information also informs me that a little man was seen boarding the train sometime before the agents arrived."

"Before they arrived? What's Loveless up to? And what are you doing about it?"

"I currently have Mr. Pike working on the case. He's worked with the agents before and he's had some experience with Dr. Loveless."

"I'm sure he's a very able man," the President sighed, and sat back down.

Richmond inwardly sighed. He had been expecting Grant to explode when he gave him the news, but the President had taken it better that Richmond had thought. Grant seemed to be silently considering what Richmond had told him, and the Colonel decided the rest of his information could wait. _"No need to dump it on him all at once,"_ he thought with a smile, as he offered Grant a cigar.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Three weeks later, the Wanderer, re-named the Antoinette after Loveless' assistant, stopped at San Francisco, California. Miguelito was disappointed that Antoinette was not able to join him on this expedition, so he had the agent's train temporarily named after her. Loveless had also wanted to make it as hard as possible for Richmond to find the train. He had transformed the exterior so much that both agents agreed they never would have known it was the Wanderer. Loveless was quite proud of himself and grinned happily at their complements.

Artemus found that spending three long weeks with Dr. Loveless was not as disagreeable as he had first thought. Miguelito Loveless could be a very charming host when he chose to be. He could also be a very annoying doctor, as Artie quickly found out. Loveless had made the agents take it easy, and Artemus wasn't sure if escaping from the hospital had saved them anything. Miguelito had said from the beginning that he was giving the agents six weeks and they might do their upmost to get well, and so they did.

Now three weeks had come and gone and the agents were standing on the boardwalk in San Francisco, waiting for Loveless to reappear from a shop. The streets were bustling with people, and the agents watched them as they waited. Every so often someone passing would stop and extend their sympathy, then ask if they could do anything for the poor men. But that was only occasionally, and most of them were very attractive young ladies who eyed Jim with interest.

"Gentlemen!" Loveless called, beckoning them to cross the street and join him on the other side. He was standing with two men, one of whom Jim recognized as the owner of the livery stable.

"A fine establishment," Loveless had said. "The owner is an old friend of mine and he owes me a favor." The dwarf disappeared into the building.

That had been an hour ago and now Loveless had returned.

"This man has agreed to lend us what we'll need at no charge." Loveless said with a smile, though the owner frowned. "And this man," Loveless pointed to the one on his right, "Has agreed to inform me of the terrain surrounding our destination, so we shan't become lost."

"What is our destination, Loveless?" Artie asked.

"In good time, Mr. Gordon, all in good time."

* * *

Colonel Richmond sat in Grant's office staring at his own feet. He had finally decided it was time to give the President the rest of his news, and Grant had taken it much like the Colonel had expected, bad. Grant marched back and forth behind his desk, angrily muttering about something. He'd stop every so often and glare at Richmond.

"Why did you wait so long to tell me?" he finally demanded.

"Sir, by the time I knew, there wasn't anything anybody could do about it."

"He's dead then?"

"Yes, sir, quite dead."

"Do West and Gordon know?"

"No sir, he did it on the night of their escape."

"On the night of their escape?" Grant screeched. "That was three weeks ago!"

"Yes, sir. But I thought it best at the time to wait before telling you."

"You certainly did wait. Three weeks is an awful long time," Gant sat down in his plush chair with a look of professional disapproval on his face.

"Yes, sir. But you were also very busy at the time and I thought it would be better to tell you later."

Grant waved him off with a hand. "How does the official report read?" He sat back in his chair as Richmond pulled out a report and read.

"_Dr. Colin Thornton took his own life on the morning of April 3, 1873 at around nine o'clock. His body was found in his cell where Dr. Thornton hung himself by the neck until dead. There was no evidence of violence on the body, and all investigations show that that the victim caused his own death."_

The Colonel stopped.

"Has this been made public?"

"No, sir, I wasn't intending to tell anyone."

"Good, I'd like to keep this quiet. Any news about West and Gordon?"

"No sir. We can't raise them on the telegraph, it seems to have been disconnected."

"You do realize that they were aided by a wanted man and that their failure to turn him in has put them in a slightly difficult position. Being wounded themselves, I understand that they may not have been capable, nor should we jump to conclusion. For all we know they're being held captive. However, I know those two, and I highly doubt they have been kept against their own will, unless they are physically incapacitated." Grant spoke slowly, as he allowed what he was saying to sink in.

"I know," Richmond ran his hand through his hair frustrated. "I also know that we have no evidence as of yet that they are guilty of anything more than breaking out of a hospital."

"I understand," Grant said hastily, "and I have no intention of accusing them of anything until I have more facts. But they are currently in a precarious position, and if they don't watch it, they're going to end up in a great amount of trouble."

"Unfortunately, yes. I just hope it doesn't come to that."

"So do I, Colonel. So do I."

* * *

A man stood on the sidewalk looking at a muddy street, deciding how best to cross. His black hair was parted down the center and slicked down on either side with oil, lots of oil. He wore light blue dress pants that were slightly faded at the knees and a coat and vest to match. His shirt was a blinding white, and perfectly starched. In one hand he held a light blue derby, and in his other he held a briefcase that he had locked before leaving the hotel. Dangling from his vest was a gold chain that disappeared into his pocket where a watch was nestled. His shoes where shined until you could use them as a mirror.

Finally deciding that the road was not going to dry any time soon, he slammed the derby on his head, sending a small shower of oil every which way, and started out. He frowned as his shoes and the bottom of his pants collected mud.

After making it across, he paused on the sidewalk before entering a building. The sign above the door, that the man entered, read, _Rending & Company_. Anyone passing by would have immediately assumed that the building was a freighting company, but anyone who worked there knew that the building did much more than supply the local stores.

Travis P. Baker was the man's name. After entering the building, he bounded up a flight of stairs and entered an office at the top. A secretary smiled warmly at him as he entered the office.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Baker," she greeted, "Mr. Rending is waiting for you."

"My, but you grow lovelier every day," he flashed a charming smile, and the secretary blushed.

"Please, go right in. Mr. Rending does not like to be kept waiting."

He waved a playful finger at her and entered Mr. Rending's office. Rending turned angrily at him and Baker's mood quickly changed to all business.

"Did you get what I wanted?" Rending snapped at Baker.

"Yes, Mr. Rending. And I think you'll be quite pleased with what I found out."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Yes, Mr. Rending." Baker unlocked his briefcase and handed a folder to Rending, who waved it away.

"Read it to me," he huffed impatiently.

"Yes, Mr. Rending, though I think you might find it more amusing if you read it yourself."

"I said read it aloud, and I meant it."

"Very well." Baker flipped it open and skimmed the first few lines on the page. "Well, the first page basically states that your suspicions have proved correct. Dr. Loveless did aid agents West and Gordon in their escape from the hospital, and they are currently traveling in this direction. According to my calculations they should be here three weeks from today."

"And what about that other fellow they had with them? 'Thornton' I believe was the name."

"Dr. Colin Thornton?"

"Yes, that's him."

Baker smirked. "I had everything taken care of."

"Everything taken care of _quietly_?"

"Yes, Mr. Rending. The officials are convinced it was suicide."

"Excellent!" Rending rubbed his hands together happily.

"Now we must prepare ourselves for Dr. Loveless and his companions. He's a cagey one, Dr. Loveless, so we must be extra careful in dealing with him."

Baker smiled, "Shall I ready our plan?"

"Yes, please do. I think three weeks is time enough, but I shouldn't want to waste any time. One never knows when dealing with Miguelito Loveless."

* * *

Jeremy Pike rubbed his sore head as he made his way down the busy streets of San Francisco. He had been sent to find Jim and Artie, and despite his best efforts, had completely lost them. The only reason he was back on their trail now was because the livery stable owner had not been happy that he had had to outfit Loveless for free, and had informed the law, who had informed Mr. Pike. The only problem was, the livery owner had no idea where Loveless was headed and Jeremy couldn't find the trapper who had given Loveless all his information about the terrain around their destination. He had found the train and had it sent back to Washington so it could be repainted, with the hope that he might catch the agents as they tried to return to a train that wasn't there. However, he didn't have much faith in that plan and had spent the better part of his day in and out of saloons, trying to find the trapper.

"_Jim and Artie were here two days ago, and yet I can't find a single clue as to where they went. I should be able to. How hard can it be to track down two men, one with a broken arm and the other with a busted leg?"_ Jeremy knew the answer, and he didn't like it one bit. _"Washington has literally asked me to do the impossible. Finding those two when they don't want to be found is hard enough, but you throw Loveless in there? Nope, I say it can't be done." _He had been walking with his head down, deep in thought, when suddenly he ran into someone.

"Watch where ye're goin'!" the man snapped.

"Sorry," Jeremy smile politely.

"Ya oughta be!" the man slurred, swaying back and forth inches from Jeremy's face.

"I am sorry, my good man. Here, let me by you a drink."

"Why sure! My name's Nate, what's yours?"

"Jeremy," he smiled as he helped the tipsy Nate up to the bar.

"That's mighty nice. I always say, 'ya can't drink with someone unless ya know their name'." He scooped up his whiskey glass downed it in one gulp. Sighing happily, he smiled at Jeremy, who was trying to hide his distaste. After Jeremy had bought him a couple more, he decided to ask a question.

"I was looking for a friend of mine, maybe you know him?"

"I might. I know just about everyone on this here coast."

"This friend of my, he helped three gentlemen the other day. One of them was really short, and the other two wore casts."

Nate nodded his head and Jeremy felt his hope rising.

"I've seen em. They was over at the livery stable, gettin' horses. Yup, that there trapper they was talkin' to, he's a friend of mine." Nate frowned, "Only problem is I can't find him no more."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"The other night, he was mighty scared about somethin'. 'Nate,' he says to me, 'Nate, I feel like someone's a watchin' me', and I asks how he came to think that and he says, 'Every time I turn around, I see a shadow right behind me.' I asks him what he meant but he said he'd explain more later, only I ain't seen 'im since."

"Do you know what he told the little man?"

"Naw…well he mentioned somethin' about Canada, but I couldn't be sure…Hey! Why do ya want to know all this fer?"

"Like I said, he's a friend of mine and I'm trying to find him."

"I ain't never heard of you."

"I'm a new friend. But do you think he gave them directions for Canada?"

"Well, I cain't be too sure, but that's what it sounded like to me."

"Thank you, Nate. You've been a big help." Jeremy smiled and bought another drink for the man, then left the bar heading for the federal building.

The federal building in San Francisco was no different from the one in Washington or any other federal building Jeremy had gone into. They all stood out like a sore thumb, and they all were surrounded by a tall stone wall. With a half-smile, Pike ascended the steps and entered the two-story stone building. The entry way was large and a fair amount of people were hurrying around in it.

"_Never a dull moment here," _Jeremy thought, as he moseyed up to the main desk.

A small girl with red hair smiled at him as he leaned on the counter.

"Hello, Mr. Pike, any luck today?"

"Maybe," he smiled back. "Any news for me from Colonel Richmond?"

"No, Mr. Pike."

"I'd like to send a telegraph then."

"Sure," she pulled up a pad of paper and looked expectantly at Jeremy.

"FOUND EVIDENCE THEY'RE HEADING TO CANADA STOP PLEASE SEND AGENT TO ASSIST STOP."

"Is that all, Mr. Pike?"

"Yes, that's all for now. Hopefully by tomorrow I'll be back on their trail."

"I'm sure you will, Mr. Pike."

However, Jeremy was not able to leave San Francisco until three days later. He had to wait for Washington to assign him a temporary partner, and it took them two days to find anyone and a day for the agent to reach Pike.

"_A week head start," _Jeremy pouted. _"They have a week head start, and I'm not even sure they're headed this way."_

Frank Harper was now his partner, and normally the two got along just fine, but this time Frank was driving Jeremy nuts.

"_This is a fine start." _Jeremy's pout had gone to a frown, and he was trying his hardest to ignore Frank. _"If I ever find those two…" _he couldn't think of a suitable punishment, so he sat back in his saddle and tried to come up with one.

* * *

Two weeks later Loveless and the agents stopped at a little town in Washington territory, just south of the Canadian border, to have Jim's and Artie's casts removed. The two were happy to part with them and Loveless was happy that the agents finally could do thing on their own. Their stay was short, for Loveless wanted to keep moving, claiming that their destination was not that far away.

The agents knew they were headed for Canada, but were still unsure of where exactly in Canada Loveless was taking them. The little doctor had refused to tell them, and the agents had given up on trying to get it from him. However, there wasn't much after you crossed the border that was easily accessible. Jim doubted Loveless would take them to any nearby forts, and he highly doubted they would be heading east, for that was Blackfeet country. This meant the only place nearby was New Westminster. He had told this to Artie, who agreed with him that that was probably their destination.

"Loveless?"

"Yes, Mr. Gordon?" Loveless smiled.

"Why did you buy Thornton's formula? I know how smart you are, and you don't need to buy some formula from an amateur doctor. If you had wanted it, you could have made it yourself."

"You are quite right, Mr. Gordon. And I did duplicate his formula― well, almost. You see, I was missing one piece to the puzzle. There is something that he does that makes it a liquid in large quantities and a rubber ball in small. However, I was unable to discover what he did, so I bought it. Oh, merely to satisfy my curiosity. But I did pay a very high price for it, and I intend to punish Antoine for running off with my money."

Artemus smiled. He was one up on Loveless for once, because he knew the formula. Jim came to the same conclusion, and the two smiled.

"Pray tell, what do you find so funny?"

"Oh nothing," Artie quickly swallowed his smile.

"Mr. Gordon, has anyone ever told you you're a terrible liar?" Loveless frowned.

"No, actually you're the first one."

Loveless was unsure if he should take that as a complement or an insult, so he chose to say nothing at all in reply.

Three days later the trio made it to the Fraser River. Known as one of the longest rivers in British Columbia, Artemus was astounded at its size and strength. They reached it about dusk, and the three sat on their horses, watching as the sky changed colors and danced on the river. It was so quiet and peaceful, with an occasional bird singing its evening song.

"Pretty," Jim mumbled at last, breaking the silence.

"That hardly justifies it, Mr. West," Loveless mumbled back.

"I say we camp here for the night and decide how to cross tomorrow," Artie interrupted.

"Splendid suggestion, Mr. Gordon," Loveless smiled. "And with any luck we should be in New Westminster tomorrow for lunch." It was fairly clear now where their destination was, and Loveless saw no further need to keep it a secret.

Loveless' prediction turned out to be correct. After taking some rooms, they had a wonderful lunch at the hotel restaurant. Loveless smile pleasantly as the meal concluded.

"Shall we go see where Antoine works?"

"Works?" Jim looked puzzled

"Yes, you see he's the president of a company, and I'm afraid at the moment I have quite forgotten its name. No matter, that fact is not important."

"Doctor, have you considered the possibility that once Jim and I know where Antoine is, we won't need your help anymore?"

Loveless laughed. "I do admire your spunk, Mr. Gordon. But you and Mr. West would be very foolish indeed to turn me over to the authorities. There are only two ways into Antoine's fort. One is through the front gate and the other is through a secret tunnel, and I'm the only one who knows where the entrance to that tunnel is."

"_Of course," _Artie thought with a sigh.

The three rose and, with Loveless in the lead, started on their way down the semi-busy street. As they neared a general store, a young lady caught Jim's eye. She was staring at him intently, and when she noticed she had gotten his attention, she beckoned him to come, then quickly went into the store. Frowning, his paused at the entrance.

"What are you stopping for, Jim?" Artie called once he realized his friend was no longer behind him.

"Nothing, you two go on ahead. I'll catch up." And with that he disappeared into the store.

"Now what is he doing?" Loveless snapped irritably.

"Oh, he'll catch up," Artie defended as he started on.

Loveless moved with him but his face had gone to a frown. He did not like the fact that Jim had left his view, but he felt that since he had Artemus he knew Jim wouldn't attempted much.

They walked the street's length, then rounded a corner and walked down it for some distance before Loveless suddenly stopped.

"Something is not right," he frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Look there, Mr. Gordon. That is Antoine's factory, yet there is no one inside."

Loveless was pointing down the street and Artie followed the direction of his finger. There at the end stood a tall factory. What it manufactured Artemus couldn't tell, but he could tell that it wasn't currently in use. There was no smoke rising from the smokestacks, and the gate was shut and locked.

"This is not right," Loveless said again.

The two were so engrossed in staring at the building that they failed to notice the man making his way over to them.

"Are you Dr. Loveless and Artemus Gordon?" the man queried, glancing from a paper he held and then back at the two.

Neither of them answered the question, as their eyes darted about for a means of escape. However, the sheriff took their silence as a yes.

"You're under arrest. Get their guns, Jack." A man from behind took Artie's weapon, and the sheriff handcuffed the two together.

"What…?" Loveless stammered.

"On what charge?" Artie asked.

"Murder," the sheriff replied and led them away.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Artemus paced back and forth in the little cell as Loveless clung to the door and yelled at the retreating back of the sheriff.

"You have no grounds to make such an accusation!" he shouted. "I demand that you release us at once!" The dwarf's words were having little or no effect on the sheriff, but they were annoying the deputy, so he kept it up.

"Loveless, will you shut up!" Artie finally snapped, unable to stand his ranting any longer. "I'm trying to think, and I can't do that with you over there shouting."

Miguelito stepped away from the bars and sat on the bed. "Really, Mr. Gordon, you ought to learn how to concentrate no matter what's going on around you."

"I have, which is why Jim and I have always escaped from you."

"So I have observed," Loveless said sarcastically. "But this is why I chose you and Mr. West. You seemed capable to get yourselves out of any situation."

Artie made no reply as he continued his pacing. He had mentally counted his steps and stashed it away in his brain without fully being aware he had done it. He had also counted the sheriff's steps, and knew approximately how far it was from the cell to the door to the office. He knew that it wouldn't be that hard to break out of the cell, but he thought it best to wait. He wanted to know who had them arrested and why.

* * *

James West entered the general store, slightly puzzled as to where the girl had gone. He looked around for a moment, and turned to leave when he ran directly into her. Smiling apologetically, he removed his hat.

"Please excuse me," he said.

"No, the fault is mine. I shouldn't have stood so close behind you." She returned the smile. "But I have something I would like to tell you, and I think it is best if we talked in the back room." She walked around him and led the way. Jim followed, his curiosity piqued.

She was a small wisp of a girl, with rich brown hair that was curly. Her large brown eyes danced mischievously, and Jim guessed she had something of a temper at times.

"Are you Mr. West?" she asked as soon as she was sure the door to the back room was shut.

"I am," he replied, more cautious now.

"Please, I wanted to warn you. Mr. Baker is after you and your friends, and he means to have you all hung."

"Who is Mr. Baker? On what grounds is he hoping to kill us? Who are you and how do you know all this? And why did you help only me and not my friends too?" Jim spouted out his questions, thoroughly overwhelming the girl until she was unsure which question she should answer first.

"Perhaps, Mr. West, I should start from the beginning. My name is Molly Asher, and my father owns this store. Anyway, Mr. Baker is what you might call a reformed gunslinger, and he's somehow gotten it into his head that I'm his girl. I'm not. I wholeheartedly despise the man and I've told him so more than once. Well, yesterday he came by to see me, and I told him to git. I guess I made him mad because the next thing I know he's waving this picture in my face bragging how _he_ has proof that some government agents murdered someone, and he was going to see them hang by the end of this week. I know Baker, and when he says he's going to do something, it happens. I couldn't warn all three of you, for I was afraid Baker would get suspicious. So I picked you out of the group because you looked to be the most capable of taking care of yourself."

"It was a picture of me and my companions?" Jim asked.

Molly nodded her head.

"Who did we supposedly murder?"

"I'm not sure, Mr. West. Baker didn't say. But he did say the United States government would be interested to know the information he had."

"Thank you. But how do you know we didn't do what Baker claims?"

"Because, Mr. West, Baker is an outlaw, and he would _never _do anything so honest without a dishonest reason behind it all."

"Maybe he just wants the reward."

Molly smiled. "No, Baker is not a bounty hunter; he would ask you to join him before he turned you in. No, he must have another reason behind it all, though I'm afraid I do not know what that is." She walked over to the door and opened it, and Jim followed her out. They paused at the store front door, and Molly pointed to a man across the street.

"That is Travis P. Baker."

Jim smiled, "I really do want to thank you, Miss Asher. You've been a great help to me."

"I only wish I could help you more," she smiled back.

Jim waited until Baker disappeared into the sheriff's office before making his way stealthily out of the store and down the street. Ducking into an alley, he hurried back to the hotel.

* * *

Baker strode into the sheriff's office and walked right up to the desk.

"I heard you captured the men I wanted."

"Yeah, two of them. I don't know where the third one is, but don't worry, we'll get him," the sheriff replied.

Baker nodded and made for the cell block. Artemus was still pacing but Loveless had gone back to his ranting.

"You have no evidence whatsoever to keep us here," he snapped at the deputy on duty.

"Oh yes, we do," Baker snapped back, and Loveless turned to look at him.

Artemus stopped mid-stride and glanced at Travis.

"I would like a few moments alone, Sheriff," Baker asked without taking his eyes off of Artie.

The sheriff just grunted in reply and beckoned for his deputy to follow him out. Baker smiled and removed his hat, which he then accidentally dropped. Artemus suppressed his laughter as he watched Baker stoop to pick it up. A drop of oil fell from his head as he did so, and Loveless instantly jumped away from the bars in disgust. Baker mistook it for fear, and his smiled broadened.

"Gentlemen, I hope you liked the welcoming party I arranged for you."

"It was splendid. I hope to host one for you one day," Artemus shot back, and Loveless chuckled.

"I'm sure you do, but I'm afraid you'll never get that chance," Baker replied, "You see, you're going to a hanging real soon."

"How droll," Loveless sighed. "I thought for sure you'd have something far more entertaining planned."

"I'm sure you'll find it very entertaining once the rope has tightened around your neck."

Loveless yawned and looked away, bored. Baker looked annoyed for a moment, but he quickly pushed it aside.

"Do you mind telling me whom we supposedly killed?" Artie asked.

"Oh I don't mind telling you…" Baker smiled.

"But you won't."

"Nope, I like it better that you should sit in here and wrack your brain wondering who it was."

"You're all heart." Artemus had come to stand at the cell door and he was now leaning against the bars, inches from Baker's face.

Loveless joined him, and he contemplated kicking Travis in the shins, but decided against it.

"Well, I guess if you don't want to tell me, then I don't really care," Artemus backed away and went to sit on the bed.

"Oh, but you will care, Mr. Gordon, and it's only a matter of time before your curiosity gets the better of you."

Artie shrugged, "Why should I care? According to you I'm going to die ignorant or not. It doesn't really matter to me if I know why. "

"I'm very happy, then, that you are able to take this so indifferently. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I shall go see if I can find your partner." Baker smiled and left.

"Mr. Gordon, when we get out of here, I will personally enjoy ripping him apart," Loveless glared.

Artie laughed. "You know, Loveless, I've felt the same way about you more than once."

The dwarf frowned, then smiled. "I'm sure you have, Mr. Gordon. But I rather enjoy taunting you and Mr. West."

"So I have discovered," Artemus sighed and leaned against the wall. If Jim didn't come before dark, Artie was going to try an escape plan of his own. Crossing his arms, he closed his eyes and was soon asleep.

* * *

After successfully avoiding the search party, Jim carefully made his way up the back stairs to the hotel and his room. Quickly he collected his and Artie's belongings, then hurried for Loveless' room. He was just about to exit the dwarf's room, when he heard voices in the hall. They grew louder and louder until they stopped right at his door. There were two of them and they were laughing about something. Pressing his ear to the door, Jim tried to make out what they were saying.

"He said to wait here in this hall to see if he comes back for his stuff," one of them was grumbling.

"Yeah, well I don't think he will. Why should he? Coming back here's the stupidest thing to do. I mean these secret service men, they're pretty cagey and I don't know one of them who would go back for his clothes. They'd be an idiot if they did."

After a quick survey of the room, Jim found that he had two options: to either drop out of the window and hope he didn't break a bone, or overpower the guards out in the hall. He chose the window.

"_After all, I wouldn't want them to think I was an idiot,"_ he smiled.

Opening the window, Jim dropped the saddle bags, then slowly and carefully jumped out after them. Just as he slung the saddle bags over his shoulder a bullet hit the dirt behind him.

"Freeze!" a man called. But Jim didn't freeze; he took off running and ducked around a corner before the man could get off another shot.

"_Well, this isn't exactly what I had in mind," _Jim thought as he dodged another shot and ran for the livery stable.

A third shot splintered the door frame near his head as he ducked into the stable.

"_They're getting better," _he warned himself as he frantically searched for way out.

* * *

"Stop shooting!" Baker snapped as he grabbed his hired gun's rifle barrel. "I want him alive, not dead!"

"I wasn't going to hit any place vital," Kyle snapped as he yanked his rifle from Baker's grasp.

"Well, don't shoot unless I tell you to." Baker motioned to his men from down the street, and they carefully made their way over to the stable.

Slowly they lined up on either side of the big doors leading out to the street, and at Bake's command threw them open, ready for anything. Well, ready for everything but what happened. As soon as they had the doors open, Jim bolted out of them on his black horse. The men went sprawling every which way, trying to get out of the horse's path as Jim fled down the street.

Baker drew a gun from inside his coat and fired at Jim's retreating back.

"I thought you said not to shoot," Kyle gave him a sideways glance.

Baker raised his gun barrel and was about to bring it crashing down on Kyle's head when he spotted Rending across the street glaring at him.

"Get your horse and get after him!" Baker snapped instead, giving Kyle a shove.

Looking back at Rending, Baker slowly walked over to him. His men charged down the street after Jim, and Baker watched them go before giving his full attention to Rending.

Rending continued to glare at Baker as he ascended the boardwalk and stood even with him.

"Have everything under control?" Rending asked sarcastically.

"Yes, Mr. Rending. Don't worry, we'll get him soon."

"See that you do." Rending walked away, beckoning Baker to follow him. Grudgingly, Baker followed, and they went to Rending's office.

* * *

The door to the cell slammed shut, jolting Artemus awake. Blearily he took in his surroundings, stopping when he saw that the deputy was holding Loveless off the ground by his lapel on the outside of the cell, and shaking the little man like a rag doll.

"Sheriff!" Artie shouted as he jumped up from his seat and rushed to the cell door. "Sheriff!" he called again, as the deputy started to choke the dwarf. Reaching through the bars, he tried to get at the deputy, but they were just out of reach. "Sheriff! Sheriff, come quick!"

Boots loudly hit the floor, and someone rushed over to the door. The sheriff charged in anger clearly written on his face.

"Jack!" he bellowed. "Stop right now!" In two quick strides he walked over to his deputy and wrenched his hands from Loveless' throat. "What do you think you're doing?" he snapped.

Jack's eyes flashed from Loveless and then back to the sheriff. "That little devil…" he sputtered. "He…he…"

"What did he do?" the sheriff snapped impatiently.

"Why he…"

"Never mind! Get out of here and don't come back unless I call you."

The deputy stormed from the room.

"Honestly," the sheriff mumbled as he help the gagging Loveless to his feet and back into the cell.

Artemus took charge once the little man was back in the cell, putting him on the cot.

"You wait a minute and I'll get something for your friend to drink." The sheriff smiled as he returned to give Artie a tin cup of water. "Sorry about that. Jack's alright, but he's still a wet under the ears."

"Rather," Artemus mumbled as he helped Loveless with the cup.

"Well, guess you'll be getting hungry soon. I'd better see about getting you both something to eat." He scratched his head and left.

With a satisfying sigh, Artie watched some of the color return to the dwarf's face, and his eyes fluttered open. Gasping, Loveless pushed the cup away from his mouth and rubbed his sore throat.

"I told you to shut up," Artie glared.

Loveless continued to cough as he glared back at Artemus. Slowly he rose into a sitting position, and laid his head in his hands.

"That mongrel," he mumbled painfully, "Just you wait until I get out of here. I'll show him."

"If you ask me, you got what you deserved."

"But I wasn't asking you now, was I?" Loveless snapped back.

"No, you're right, you weren't asking me." Wearily Artie sat on the cot next to Loveless. A smile played across his lips, and Loveless looked at him, frustrated.

"What are you smiling about?"

"I was just thinking that this has to be one of the few times that I have ever sat in your company for more the ten minutes without either of us trying to kill the other."

"I still don't see why you find it funny," Loveless frowned and looked away.

"I wouldn't expect you too. Now, the sheriff has gone to get us something to eat and after we've had our dinner, I say we skip this joint."

"My thoughts exactly."

* * *

Baker slowly descended down the stairs and out the door of the _Rending & Company _building. Slamming his hat on his head, he hurried down the street. His ears were still smarting from Rending's rebuke. Jonas Rending had very firmly told Baker that he had better have James West in prison by that evening or he'd have to start looking for new employment.

Baker sneered up at Rending's window. _"Just you try to fire me!" _He thought as he walked for the tavern down the street. He had just reached the door when Kyle came bounding up the street.

"Hey! Mr. Baker, sir? We have West cornered but some of the boys want to hang him right there once they get him. I figured I'd better come get you, if you're hoping to bring him back to town alive."

Baker jumped up on a horse tied to the railing and followed Kyle back out of town. They didn't have far to go, for Jim's horse had reared and dumped him. He had had to hole up behind some boulders close to the bottom of a mountain. Dismounting, Baker watched as his men stood at the bottom of the steep hill staring up at Jim, who was pointing a rifle at them. Baker smiled. They had him now; there was no place for Jim to run. All they had to do was smoke him out of his current hiding place.

"What are those idiots doing?" Baker snapped at Kyle. "Why are they all standing there?"

"We got Silas trying to sneak in behind him. Those four our trying to keep his attention so Silas can get into place."

"Well why aren't they saying anything?" With an annoyed huff Baker marched cautiously over to his men. "Mr. West!" he called, "You should give yourself up; it won't be long before you run out of ammunition, and we can wait longer than you can." Baker moved forward, but quickly stepped back when Jim fired his rifle, skimming Baker's cheek.

"You stay where you are!" Jim yelled back. "I have no intention of going back to town with you. However, if you go get the sheriff, I might consider coming back peacefully."

"I assure you, Mr. West, that no harm will come to you if you give yourself up right now."

"_Yeah right," _Jim thought as he studied his situation. He knew he was between a rock and a hard place, and it was only a matter of time before they tried to get at him. The sun had already dipped low in the sky, and it would soon disappear from sight, under the horizon. Night was Jim's only hope, so he settled down to wait, hoping that he could make a break for it once darkness came.

His plan was thwarted, however, for he failed to notice Silas creeping up behind him until it was too late.

"Drop your gun, West, it's all over." Silas had climbed up on some rocks directly behind Jim, and was pointing his six shooter right at Jim's head.

"Well, since you put it like that," Jim dropped his rifle and slowly unbuckled his gun belt.

"Now start walking down the hill."

Jim did as told and Silas followed, collecting Jim's guns on his way down.

Baker smacked Jim across the face as soon as he reached bottom. Running his finger across his still bleeding cheek, Baker glowered at Jim.

"You caused me a whole lot of trouble, and now I intended to cause you some," Baker smirked.

Jim smugly returned Baker's smirk with a smile.

"Get his horse!" Baker snapped.

Someone quickly complied, and shortly they were on their way to town, just as the sun disappeared.

* * *

Their escape from the prison had been easier than Artemus had anticipated, and they had even managed to do it without arousing the sheriff or the deputy who were sound asleep. There had been one slightly hairy moment where Loveless had stood over the deputy, rifle in hand, ready to bring it crashing down on Jack's face. But Artemus had caught it before it had, and promptly took the rifle away from Loveless.

They were now on the street, slowly creeping along the boardwalk, making for the stables, hoping to find Jim. However, the sudden sound of horses trotting down the street caused the fugitives to duck quickly in to an alley. There were a great many horses coming down the street and Artie poked his head around the corner to see what they were doing. A feeling of dread suddenly washed over him when he saw that Jim was in the midst of them, his hands tied. He assumed they were going to the sheriff's office, but they passed it and turned down a side street.

Cautiously, Artie moved from his hiding spot and walked to where the men had disappeared. Cracking an eye around the corner, he was just in time to see them go into Antoine's factory.

Loveless tugged on Artemus' trouser leg and indicated they should get closer. Artie nodded, and they set out.

"_What have you gotten yourself into this time, James, my boy," _Artie thought as he sneaked along the sidewalk keeping in the shadows.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

To say that David Fletcher looked like a young man would have been an understatement. He looked to be just twenty, but in reality the man was thirty-five. His blond hair was parted off to the side, and his bangs were brushed back giving him an authoritative look. His bright blue eyes glistened mischievously, and a humorous smile played about his lips. His long white lab coat was nicely fitted and it seemed to automatically demand respect from those he passed. Smiling at the girls, he made his way to Colonel Richmond's office.

Richmond's secretary's smile lit up her face as David leaned on her desk.

"Is Richmond busy?" he asked.

"Well, he did request to be left alone," she smiled at him with pity.

He put on a pout. "Oh but you could disturb him for me, couldn't you? Anyway, I have some important information for him."

"I guess…"

"You're an angel." He bent down and gave her a slight kiss on the cheek.

She blushed, and hurried to knock on the Colonel's door.

David heard the loud 'Come in,' from where he stood. He made for the door and brushed passed the secretary before she had a chance to fully open it.

"What is the meaning of this?" Richmond barked from behind his desk, where he was buried under a mountain of paper work.

"Sir, this is Mr. Fletcher from Forensics. He's our top pathologist," the secretary beamed as she looked at David.

"Yes, I know who he is. I also know I told you I was not to be disturbed."

Her expression quickly fell as she anticipated the lecture that was about to follow.

David cut in. "Yes sir, and she was doing a wonderful job. I'm afraid that this interruption is my fault. I have some very important information for you that I feel cannot wait."

Richmond studied the man for a moment before nodding to his secretary to leave.

"Now, _Mr. Fletcher_, what can I do for you?" Richmond's glare was cold.

"Sir, as you may know, I was in charge of examining Dr. Thornton's body."

"Yes, I was aware of that."

"I reported to you that I had found no evidence of violence on the body, but I am afraid I was mistaken."

"What?" Richmond's brow furrowed.

"Yes sir. I really am sorry for this mistake, but the bruising on the body was so slight that I didn't think it important until now. After a closer examination, I found bruising on Thornton's arm. It was very faint, but the indications are that he had been injected with something moments before he took his life."

"Dr. Thornton was drugged with something that would cause him to murder himself?"

"Yes sir, that is what I believe happened. I had some blood tests run and it seems that Thornton would have been in some sort of hypnotic state just before his death."

"Then, he _was_ murdered?"

"Yes, sir."

Richmond had gotten up and started to pace his office. "Thank you. Mr. Fletcher, you may go."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, and Fletcher? The next time you come barging into my office, I'll relieve you of your command as head of Forensics."

"Yes, sir."

David shrugged as the door closed behind him. Smiling at the secretary, he bowed slightly and gave her hand a kiss.

"I wish to apologize for getting you in trouble with the Colonel," his smile became apologetic.

"No need," she smiled. "It wasn't really your fault."

"Oh, but it was. And I insist that you allow me to take you out for dinner once you're off of work."

"Well…alright."

"Seven o'clock?"

"I'll be ready."

With one last wave, Fletcher left the office and started down the long hall back to his laboratory, smiling contemptuously as he went. David cared very little for this particular date, but he loved the fact that nearly every woman at the secret services office adored him. Any girl who had turned away from him, he tried very hard to win over, and in most cases he was successful. There were a few who remained indifferent and it annoyed him.

However, he was not thinking of them at the moment, he was thinking of Colonel Richmond and what he had said right before David left the office.

Forensics was his job and he did it well. To him it was his life, and to lose his position meant he would lose just about everything. Determined to remain in good graces with the Colonel, he entered his lab and went back to work.

* * *

The clock on the wall ticked endlessly as the Colonel walked back and forth across his office. He had sent a message to Grant and had received one back, telling him that the President was coming to meet with him in his office. He dreaded having to tell Grant that he had made a mistake. It had been a month and a half since Dr. Thornton's death, too long to try and catch the man who had done it. Why Fletcher had waited so long to relay his information, Richmond didn't know.

He paused as he heard the President's tread in the hall, and quickly went to sit behind his desk, which he had cleared of papers. Grant barged in and sat in the first chair he came to.

"Richmond, this problem with West and Gordon has gone on long enough. It's high time you put an end to it."

"Yes sir. Just as soon as we can locate them," Richmond replied sarcastically.

Grant glared but chose to change the subject.

"So, what is this I hear about Dr. Thornton being murdered?"

"Yes sir, some new evidence shows that the Doctor was drugged."

"So I read in your note. But really, why has it taken so long to find this evidence? There is very little we can do about it now."

"We realize this sir, but we do have a small lead. Only…"

"Yes?"

"The lead we have points to the problem we're still working on."

"And that is?" Grant encouraged; he really hoped he didn't have to force every piece of the story out of Richmond.

"Loveless blew up part of the building where was Dr. Thornton being held, and with all the confusion it would have been very easy for him to quickly inject the Doctor with something and leave without being spotted."

"And you can't lay your hands on Loveless."

"Last I heard from Mr. Pike, he believed them to be in Canada."

"Out of our reach."

"At the moment."

"You really need to wrap this up. A month is a bit ridiculous for any of our agents to be absent without leave."

"I'm calling it their vacation time for the rest of the year," Richmond smiled.

* * *

Jeremy Pike glared at Frank Harper from across the fire. It had been two weeks since their departure from San Francisco, and they had just now reached the Canadian border. Frank had delayed them, for he had to stop at a town to buy a new horse. It hadn't been his fault that his first horse had died, but Jeremy still blamed Frank for having to go out of their way to stop. Harper knew he was angry and he was doing his best to make up for it But Pike would have nothing of it. He sat on a log, glaring at Harper as he made dinner.

"Look, I really am sorry, Jeremy. If I could have stopped my horse from stepping in the chuck hole, I would have," Frank pleaded, finally unable to stand the quiet.

Jeremy made no reply just continued to brood.

Frank looked around, helpless. "It won't do either of us any good to stay mad at each other. We won't work well together if we're mad. Besides, we can't be more than three days behind them."

"How would you know? I don't even know if they came this way."

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" Frank had his head down, and he failed to notice the anger that rose in Jeremy's eyes.

"Tell me what?" Jeremy snapped.

Harper glanced up and was instantly afraid. "Well, in town I ran into this doctor who had removed two men's casts. And when I asked him for a description, he described Jim and Artie pretty well." Frank smiled, but it only lasted a moment, for then Jeremy was on top of him.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Jeremy! What's your problem? I thought you'd be happy to hear my news," Frank cried as he tried to push Pike off.

Jeremy rose to his feet and dragged Frank with him. The two stood about the same height, with the same eye color and hair color, which was styled in the same way. They were by no means twins, however, for Harper was thin and had a more easy going way about him. Pike was stockier, and tended to be much more uptight about things.

Pike stood inches from Harper's nose as he struggled to get his temper under control.

"Jeremy, the beans are going to burn," Frank mumbled.

Jeremy released him and went back to his seat. Frank shrugged his coat back into place, and stirred the beans. The tension in the air was thick, and Harper hated it.

"Look, Jeremy, I'm sorry that I forgot to tell you. But we were in such a hurry, I just forgot."

"You forgot?" Jeremy snapped. "Harper, you're a secret service agent. You should have immediately turned such information over to me."

"Which I would have done, if you hadn't yelled at me for taking up too much of your precious time," Frank snapped back, then sighed. "I'm sorry, Jeremy. But look on the bright side, we really can't be more than three or four days behind them." He gave a half smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

Jeremy sighed. "Do you know where they went?"

"The doc mentioned something about New Westminster."

"Makes sense," Jeremy concurred.

"I had a telegram sent to Washington, telling them our suspicions."

Jeremy looked angry for a moment but said nothing and the conversation was officially closed. Harper didn't dare bring it up again that night. He normally didn't mind working with Pike, but on this particular mission he wished he could have been anywhere else. The normally good-natured Pike had become snappish, and very short-tempered.

"Jeremy? Are we supposed to arrest Jim and Artie too, or just Loveless?" Harper questioned as the last of the fire started to die.

"It depends on what they're doing when we find them."

"I sure hope we don't have to arrest them," Harper yawned. "I would hate to think what Jim would do to me if I tried to throw _him_ in prison."

"He won't do anything to you. You're an agent for the United States Government, and Jim knows better than to tangle with an agent when he's acting in the line of duty."

"_Or at least I hope he does," _Jeremy thought as Frank smiled.

"Well, I guess if you have so much confidence, I'll let you handle him when the time comes," Harper yawned again and laid down in his bed roll.

"_Who said I had any confidence?" _Jeremy thought, as he laid in his own bedroll. _"I hope, more than you know, that Jim and Artie are not in any more trouble than they already are." _

* * *

The smoke trailed from the cigar and circled in the air above the President's head. He lazily watched it as he wondered how much longer it would be until someone interrupted his peace and quiet. He didn't have much longer to wonder, for a sharp rap came from his door and he was obliged to say "Come in." the person did so and handed the President a letter. Sighing, Ulysses laid his cigar aside and opened the letter, which demanded his attention.

_To the President of the United States, Sir, _(it began)

_I would like to address you on an issue your security personnel are currently struggling to handle. The information that I wish to offer you has to do with a certain Dr. Loveless and his current whereabouts. I may add that my information is not free and I must have my demands met before I will relay any of what I know. I will tell you, however, that my information also has to do with the death of Dr. Thornton, and the disappearance of two of your agents._

Grant looked up from the note. "Who is this from? Dr. Thornton's death was not made public. Who would know such information?"

The young man made no reply and Grant went back to the note.

_If you decide that my information is worth having, send ten thousand U.S dollars to Sacramento, California. If I find that you have tried to trick me in any way or are not interested in my information, it will be sold to the highest bidder by June the 27__th__. Please make your reply before then._

Grant grabbed up the envelope but there was nothing but his own name written on it.

"How was this letter delivered?"

"By hand, sir. A boy gave it to the man at the gate. He said he was to wait for a reply."

"Was the boy questioned further?"

"Yes sir," the aide seemed taken aback. "The letter was opened and read before delivered, sir."

"Did he know anything?"

"No sir, he was just sent to deliver the letter and take a reply to the shoe-shiner down the street."

"Was someone sent after the shoe-shiner?"

"Yes, sir. But they found no one."

"Was Colonel Richmond sent for?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well, tell me the minute he arrives."

"Yes, sir!" The aide went quickly out the door.

"_The twenty-seventh isn't that far away," _Grant thought as he consulted a calendar. _"And most of my agents are tied up right now with other jobs."_ Grant lit another cigar and rolled it around in his mouth.

An hour later Richmond arrived and the two discussed their plan of action.

"The closest agents I have right now are Mr. Pike and Mr. Harper. I could have those two in California in three weeks. I could then send the Wanderer down to meet them and have them here in less than a week."

"Is that the best you can do? We don't have three weeks to spare."

"I think if you wrote back and told this man you were going to do as he asked but you needed three weeks' time to get the money…"

"Or we could just let him try to sell his information to the highest bidder."

"I think it better if we try to intervene. I'll ride the train down to Sacramento myself. I'll be there in a few days and I might be able to have this thing straightened out before the deadline. They might have someone down there who can assist me."

Grant rubbed his chin. "Well, you're set on going anyway."

"Good, now don't do anything until I contact you."

"I won't," Grant looked annoyed.

Richmond smiled and left. Three hours later he boarded the Wanderer and started out on his journey. He had left instruction back at his office, that were to be followed the minute he left. A telegram had been sent to New Westminster, and Richmond felt confident that he would have the case wrapped up in a few days.

* * *

_To Mr. Rending, New Westminster, British Columbia, Canada:_

PLAN WORKED STOP RICHMOND ON HIS WAY STOP WAITING FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS STOP

Rending read the telegram with pleasure. Smiling, he slid it into his coat pocket and headed for the telegraph office. Rending was a shrewd man, and he knew Baker was outliving his usefulness. Once Loveless and the agents were dead, Rending would no longer need Baker. But Baker wasn't the sort of man you could just fire, so Rending had devised a plan to get rid of him. He would allow Baker to go to Sacramento to collect the money, where he would be caught and tried for blackmailing the United States Government. There was no doubt in Rending's mind that Baker would be hung for such a crime, and he wasn't the least bit worried about Baker talking. For he had another plan to deal with anything Baker might accuse him of, and the sender of the telegram he had just received was his insurance.

Entering the telegraph office, he wrote out a quick reply and had it sent. Everything was going according to plan.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Baker had his men bring Jim into the abandoned warehouse, and tie him to a post. After making sure that there was no possible way the agent was going to get free, he sent his men back out to the horses and told them to wait for his call. They left, slightly annoyed that they wouldn't get to share in the fun, and Baker found a dusty crate which he set in front of Jim. Baker smiled and pulled a pair of black leather gloves from his suit coat pocket. Slowly he pulled them on and flexed his hands. Standing, he drew back his hand and backhanded Jim across the face. Then he stood back and studied his victim for a moment before deciding where to strike next.

High above the two, perched on the edge of the roof, sat Artemus. He had just managed to climb up the side of the building, and he sat trying to catch his breath, watching Baker. Loveless had remained on the ground, for there was no way the little dwarf was going to shimmy up the drain pipe as Artie had done. They had formulated a plan before Artemus left Loveless, and after consulting his watch he realized he had very little time before Loveless started his diversion. Sighing, he glanced around, trying to find a way in and down without drawing attention to himself. He found one, but he didn't like it.

There was a ledge that ran along the top of the factory on the inside, long enough that he could climb through the window onto it. That settled the problem of getting in. In a moment he had the window open and was crouched on the ledge. The next problem was getting down into the warehouse. There was a heavy-looking piece of rope next to him that ran from the center of the ceiling and could reach the floor; only it was coiled up where Artie sat.

"_How convenient of them to leave this here for me,"_ he thought as he gave the rope a tug to make sure it would hold his weight.

Antoine's factory was really just a large warehouse that had been made to look like a factory from the outside. What it had really been used for Artemus didn't know.

After being assured that the rope would hold his weight, he got a good grip on it. _"Now all you have to do is swing down," _he thought as he studied how far up he was.

"Easier said than done," he mumbled. "Well Jim, I hope you know the risks I take for you," and with that he did a dare devil swing, and slammed right into Baker.

Hitting Baker stopped Artie's momentum, and he was able to drop with ease to the floor.

"_That was easy," _Artie smiled as he quickly cut Jim's ropes.

"How did you ever manage that?" Jim asked in wonderment.

"James my boy, if I live to be a hundred I will never try _that_ again."

Jim laughed, just as an explosion shook the ground. Dust rained down from the roof filling the large room with a cloud.

"That would be Loveless' diversion," Artie coughed.

Baker had been thrown across the room when Artemus smacked him, but he was now slowly rising to his feet, making his way for the agents. The wind had been knocked out of him, and his oily hair had collected dirt from the floor and from the roof, turning it gray. The dust cloud had gotten in his eyes, making it hard to see, but he knew if he was having trouble so were the agents. His derringer was out, and in just a moment the agents would be in range.

The cloud was settling, and the sound of gunfire had erupted from outside. Artemus turned and saw Baker. The gunman had a piece of wood sticking out of his shoulder, and he limped, favoring that side. All look of sanity had gone from his eyes and he was laughing.

Jim turned to look and watched the man stumble and fall to the floor. Taking a step for him, Jim stopped when Baker pointed his gun.

"You want Moreau?" Baker laughed hysterically, slightly insane.

Exchanging a glance, both agents took another step toward the crazy man.

"Stay back!" Baker snapped. With a struggle he drew himself up to his knees, then to his feet, swaying. Artie was sure he would fall again but he remained upright.

"How do you know the Frenchman?" Jim tried.

Baker continued his maddening laugh. "He was here a couple of weeks ago." his breathing was now coming in quick gasps.

"What was he doing here?" Jim took a step closer.

Baker cocked his gun. "None of your business." Sense seemed to be returning to his mind. "And I don't intend for you to find out either," he frowned and raised his gun.

"Jim!"

James dropped to the floor as two guns fired in unison. Baker staggered for a moment, clutching his side as realization seemed to dawn on his face. He fell to the floor, his .41 Rimfire caliber slug had imbedded in the post next to Artemus.

Jim went to the dying gunman and turned him over. "Where is Moreau?"

Baker smiled and shook his head.

Jim knelt next to him and pushed on the piece of wood jutting out of Travis Baker's shoulder.

Travis bit back a scream. "Kansas! He went to Kansas!"

"Kansas?" Artie repeated.

The gunfire from outside had grown louder and suddenly Loveless burst through the door.

"I thought you were going to be my back up!" He shouted at Artie as he raced for the other end of the building.

The agents joined in the run as Baker's men poured through the door after them. Bullets whizzed past the trio as they ran madly for the other side.

"I hope you know where you're going!" Artie yelled at Loveless.

There was no need for Loveless to reply, for at that moment they reached a door and fled out of it. It led them to an alley were they headed for the livery stable.

The town was flooded with light from the lamps of the people who had started to fill the streets, cautiously making their way to the factory.

Baker's men were stopped as the building was surrounded and the sheriff came bustling into the warehouse with a group of half-awake men.

"What is going on?" he yelled over the noise.

"Sheriff! The prisoners! You're letting them get away!" yelled one of Bakers men.

"What?" the sheriff snapped. "My prisoners are safely locked up."

"No! They got out, we must stop them!"

There were a few more moments of disagreement before it was finally decided that the easy way to solve the argument was to have a look in the jail. They charged off for the prison, leaving the factory dark. None of the people noticed Baker or the two horses that snuck back along the alley to the warehouse. Jim's horse was still with Baker's, and after a soft whistle he mounted it and went charging down the road out of town with Artie and Loveless.

A cry arose from the prison and people poured from the building and out onto the street, in search of the escaped men. Rending was among them, but he went back to the factory alone. He had noticed the absence of Baker and it puzzled him. The door creaked under his hand, echoing in the quiet warehouse. The moon that had gone behind a cloud now reappeared and sent eerie shadows across the floor. The shouts of men reached Rending as the search continued about the town. The stillness of the place was deafening, and slowly Rending entered the building. His foot fall clapped about the room, disturbing the quiet. Baker's body was distinguishable in the moonlight and Rending threw the light from his lantern on the man's face. Travis P. Baker was dead. The body's eyes glowed in the flickering light, and Rending shivered. Suddenly he felt very much alone.

The door creaked. Rending jumped, whirled and sent light in the direction of the noise. The sheriff was making his way over. He smiled when he saw Rending.

"Dead?"

"Yes Sheriff, quite dead."

Their voices echoed in the cavernous room, and the two men sent cautious glances into the dark corners.

"Kinda quiet, ain't it?" the sheriff asked.

"Yes, rather," Rending smiled a nervous smile.

"Do you mind helping me carry him out to my horse?"

"No, not at all."

Hastily the two men picked up Baker and carried him out to the sheriff's horse.

"That's funny," the sheriff mumbled.

"What is?"

"The horses. There were three or four horses tied to that pole when I rode up but they're not there now." He pointed to a spot in the courtyard of the factory.

"You're right!" Rending stammered. "I remember going over to look at them. There was no way they could have gotten free themselves."

"Who took them I wonder?"

A sudden gust of wind blew through the courtyard and banged the door of the factory. They froze. Not a sound was heard but the wind whistling about them. The sheriff's horse blew and started prancing uneasily.

"Kinda spooky," the sheriff mumbled, and Rending concurred.

Taking his horse's reins, the sheriff and Rending hurried out of the gate and some of the way down the street until they came to the street lamps.

"Do you want me to add the murder of Mr. Baker to the charges against Dr. Loveless and his accomplices?"

"No, Sheriff. I think I would prefer if you dropped the matter altogether. Baker was the only one with the evidence and without him there really is no point in continuing with the search."

"As you wish," the sheriff shrugged. "I'll round up everybody and tell them the party's over."

"Thank you," Rending smiled.

* * *

Cold and dripping wet, they raced through the forest. How they had ever managed to make it back across the river, Artemus never knew. All he was concerned with at the moment was staying on his horse. They were racing at breath-taking speed, dodging the trees as they raced to get as far away from the town of New Westminster as possible. His wavy hair clung to his face and sent droplets of cold water into his eyes. He had lost his hat in the daring river crossing.

Jim led them on until the moon disappeared and visibility was close to impossible. A strong wind rippled through the forest and Artie heard Loveless' teeth chatter in the stillness of the night.

"Well, I guess this is as good a place as any to stop for the night," Jim commented, dismounting.

"We'd better get a fire going before Loveless freezes. Not that I wouldn't mind," Artie smiled mischievously.

Loveless frowned. "There is just as much chance of me freezing to death as you."

"I don't know, there's rather a bit more of me than there is of you to keep warm."

"Oh, shut up!" Loveless snapped as his teeth continued to chatter.

A blazing fire and a warm cup of coffee specially made by Artie, brought the dwarf back to good humor. He sat across from the two agents, smiling his usual smile as they sat staring back, boredom written all over their faces. Loveless had endeavored to explain how he intended to kill Antoine once he found him, but the agents had found his explanation boring, Jim because he didn't understand a word of it, and Artemus because he knew it was impossible to do what the dwarf was proposing.

Loveless, seeing that he was going to get no reaction out of the two, decided to retire for the night. He downed the rest of his coffee and went to sleep. Jim awoke him the next day before the sun had cracked over the horizon. Grumpily the dwarf rolled out of bed and into the saddle.

The day warmed as they rode, through the tall lodgepole pines of Canada. Loveless, feeling very happy began to whistle a tune and Artie, being in good humor, sang along with him. Jim rolled his eyes at the two but said nothing. Loveless soon gave up the whistling and joined Artie in singing. They sang in perfect harmony for the greater part of an hour and just when Jim thought he couldn't take any more of it, the two ended their song with a laugh.

"Mr. Gordon, may I compliment you on your voice. You did a rather excellent job," Loveless beamed.

"You're very good yourself," Artie smiled.

"It's such a shame we're enemies," Loveless sighed. "You two could be very helpful if you were always this agreeable."

Jim smiled. Loveless never handed out complements, and had he had just given two in less than five minutes.

"_It must be a red letter day,"_ Jim thought as his companions started another tune.

They stayed in the saddle until the sun had completely gone behind the horizon.

"Look!" Loveless whispered, pointing just ahead of them.

Flickering through the trees was the light of a campfire. They pulled up their horses, then turned to go wide around it. As they rode by, they could just make out the figures, and Artie almost gasped when he saw who was there. Looking at Jim, their eyes locked, both with a worried expression, which changed to a smile.

Safely past the camp, Artemus let out a sigh.

"You two find a place for us to camp tonight. I think I'll go have a look at that camp," Jim mumbled.

"Why? You might get caught," Artemus warned.

"I won't get caught," Jim smiled mischievously and rode off.

"Yeah right you won't." Artie mumbled.

"Mr. Gordon, would you please tell me what he's doing?" Loveless sounded annoyed.

"He's going to get caught, that's what he's doing," Artie mumbled, annoyed. "And I'm not going to help him!" He turned his mount and rode off with a perplexed Loveless.

* * *

Jim left his horse some feet from the actual camp and silently crept toward the light. The loud sound of a twig snapping echoed through the forest, and Jim swore softly as he quickly vacated the spot away from the stick he had broken.

"What was that?" Pike was on his feet in an instant, trying to see through the trees.

"Probably nothing," Frank replied in good humor.

Jeremy looked at him skeptically. "I don't know…"

"Well, if it worries you so, why don't you go have a look?"

The thought of leaving the fire to go tramping through the forest after something or someone in the dark, was not a delightful prospect for Jeremy. With a sigh he sat back down.

"I just have this terrible feeling we're going to be too late by the time we reach New Westminster," Jeremy sighed.

"We should be there by tomorrow. I'm sure we'll get there in plenty of time," Frank tried to console him.

Jim was in hearing distance by this time. In fact, he was so close that he could have reached out and touched Jeremy if he had wanted to.

Jeremy sighed again and threw the rest of his coffee grounds behind him, narrowly missing Jim.

Frank smiled. "I think I'll turn in." He was soon rolled up in his bedroll with his hat pulled low ever his face.

Jeremy watched him, but remained where he was, staring at the fire. Jim slowly backed away from him and crept around to where Frank lay. He must have made a noise of some kind, for Jeremy's head snapped up and for some moments he stared at the bush where Jim crouched.

"Frank! Frank did you hear that?" his voice was tight.

"No," was the sleepy answer.

"I know I heard something that time." Jeremy got up and started for the bush.

Jim took in a sharp intake of breath as he wondered what he would do if Jeremy found him.

"Come on Jeremy! There's nothing there. Why don't you get some sleep." Harper half sat up and called Jeremy back.

Pike mumbled an answer but went back to his seat. Jim let out a sigh of relief.

Smiling mischievously, Jim picked up a rock and chucked it at Jeremy. It smacked the agent on the head, and Pike glared angrily at Frank who had just started to lie back down.

"What's the big idea?" Jeremy snapped at Frank as he rubbed his bruised head.

"What?" Frank looked up at Jeremy innocently.

"You know very well what!"

Frank shrugged and lay back down. Jeremy continued to glare, as he bent down for another cup of coffee. As soon as his eyes were averted, Jim chucked another rock which landed in Jeremy's full coffee mug.

Jeremy quickly released his cup as the hot liquid spilled out onto his hand.

"That's it!" He marched over to Frank and wrenched him to his feet. "You think it's funny huh?" he shouted at him.

"Funny? Jeremy I don't know what you're talking about." Frank looked at him helplessly.

"Yeah right you don't." Jeremy released him, but hit him across the face as he did so.

Frank fell and rubbed his sore cheek. "You had no call to do that!" He face was now flushed with anger and he looked ready to punch Jeremy.

Pike just smiled. "Serves you right."

Frank hit him then, and watched with satisfaction as Jeremy fell to the ground. Pike rubbed his sore jaw, then tackled Frank. The two wrestled for a moment until they heard the unmistakable laugh of James West behind them! They both stopped and turned but no one was there. However, pinned to the log that Jeremy had been sitting on, was a note. Frank pulled out the knife pinning the note, and Jeremy read aloud.

_See you in New Westminster!_

_Jim West_

"Why the…" Jeremy grumbled, crumbling up the note and tossing it in the fire. "When I get my hands on him!"

"You want to go after him?" Frank's eyes were determined.

"No, it's too dark tonight. We'll get him tomorrow," Jeremy sat back on the log, and Frank went to his bedroll.

"Jeremy, I'm going to skin him alive when we find him tomorrow."

"Not if I beat you to it."

Frank smiled, rolled over and went to sleep.

* * *

Twenty minutes later Jim entered his own camp. Artemus had been pacing back and forth. Loveless was asleep.

"There you are!" Artemus snapped. "I was just beginning to think I was going to have to come rescue you _again_."

Jim smiled. "Don't you want to know what happened?"

"I can guess," Artie scoffed. "And as long as they didn't catch you I don't care."

"I left a note behind."

"You did what!" Artemus screeched in a whisper.

"Shh! don't worry about it. I told them I'd see them in New Westminster."

"Well I hope for all our sakes they believed it."

"Oh they did. I stuck around long enough to hear that much, and that they want to hang my hide out to dry."

Artie chuckled. "I wonder what they'll say tomorrow when they learn we're not in New Westminster."

"By then I hope to be back in the U.S."

"We will. The border's just over that rise." Artemus gestured and Jim nodded.

By noon the next day they were back in Washington Territory, making their way for Kansas.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Jeremy Pike angrily dismounted from his horse and stalked into the hotel. Frank followed, close at his heels, and banged on the bell to get the clerk's attention.

"May I help you gentlemen?" The clerk hurried out from a door behind the counter.

"I'm looking for two men named James West and Artemus Gordon, seen them?" Jeremy spouted.

The clerk smiled. "Yes, I've seen them, but they're not here anymore. Lit out of town couple of days ago on account of some trouble they had with the law."

"Oh that's just great, Jeremy. What are we going to do now?" Frank sighed, annoyed.

"Are you Mr. Jeremy Pike?" The clerk looked at him sharply.

"Yes," Jeremy answered, surprised.

"I have a telegram for you." He pulled it out of a mail slot and handed it to Pike.

DROP CURRENT CASE STOP NEED YOU IN SACRAMENTO STOP URGENT RICHMOND STOP

Jeremy handed it to Frank and turned back to the clerk. "What kind of trouble were West and Gordon in?"

"Wanted for murder. Rumor has it the U.S. Government wants them. But Mr. Rending had to drop the charges the other day on account of West and Gordon killing his star witness."

"Where does Mr. Rending live?" Jeremy persisted.

"Well, at this time of day you'll find him in his office, right across the street."

"Thank you." Pike headed out the door.

"Jeremy?" Frank cautioned once they left the hotel. "What are you doing? Colonel Richmond said to drop the case and get to California as soon as possible."

"I know what he said," Jeremy snapped. "And we will, just as soon as I find Rending, and ask him a few questions."

"Whatever," Frank shrugged.

The _Rending & Company_ sign was hard to miss, and Jeremy had no problems finding the building. He entered and made his way for a desk, behind which a young man was sitting.

"Excuse me? Can you tell me where I might find Mr. Rending?" Jeremy asked, addressing the young man.

"Upstairs in the office normally, when he's here, only he ain't there right now," he replied, looking up from a stack of papers.

"Where is he?" Jeremy asked slightly impatient.

"Left his business affairs to Mr. Jackson, and Mr. Rending left for Kansas he didn't say when he'll be back."

"When did he leave?" Jeremy asked in surprise.

"Last night."

"Short notice," Frank mumbled.

"It was rather," the boy agreed. "If you ask me, I think he left to track down those two government agents who were here."

"Oh?" Jeremy queried.

The young mam nodded his head. "See, they killed his friend, Mr. Baker, and I think he went after them."

"Do you think he'll catch up with them?" Frank asked.

The boy glanced around then leaned in close. "Mr. Rending normally accomplishes what he sets out to do. I think he will in this case, and I hope he does too."

"Thank you for your help." Jeremy smiled.

The boy returned the smile. "Any time, mister."

Walking back to their horses, they mounted and rode out of town.

"Well, are we going to do what Richmond wants or are we going to go after Jim and Artemus?" Frank asked a sullen Jeremy.

"What Richmond wants of course. Those two can take care of themselves; I'm tired of chasing them all over the place." Pike set his jaw in a determined way.

"Okay, just making sure."

"Besides, any trouble they get into, I say it serves them right. And I think Richmond's directive is far more important than those two."

* * *

For Jim, the trip away from New Westminster went much faster than the trip there. Two weeks later they arrived in Sacramento, California. Their end goal was to reach San Francisco, but Loveless had forced them to stop early. Most of the missions Jim had been on in that part of the U.S. had taken him to San Francisco, and although he had traveled through Sacramento many a time, this was the first time he had ever spent time in the city. It looked much like San Francisco, so he was not impressed one bit. But it was good to be out of the saddle so he kept his dislike to himself.

"I'm sorry to say, gentlemen, that I won't be taking you to see some of my favorite spots in this city. I wouldn't want you to use that against me some day," Loveless said as they walked down the busy streets of Sacramento.

"That really is too bad, Loveless. I would have been very interested to know where you spend your free time," Artie replied sarcastically.

"Humph! Mr. Gordon, you can be rather bothersome," Loveless snapped back.

"Is this place you're taking us to eat very far from here?" Jim asked, breaking up the glaring contest.

"Just around that corner, Mr. West."

"Good, because I'm starved."

They were rounding the corner as they talked, and Jim happened to glance up just as Colonel Richmond stepped out of a coach directly ahead. Grabbing up Loveless, Jim quickly ducked back around the corner with Artie in tow.

"What are you doing?" the dwarf snapped as he struggled to make Jim set him down.

"Richmond," Jim responded, as he peeked around the corner to see if they had been spotted.

"Richmond, here?" Artie asked.

Jim nodded.

"Did he see us?" Loveless asked, the anger gone from his voice.

"No," Jim reassured them, then boldly stepped around the corner.

Cautiously they walked the length of the street until the busy city swallowed them in its crowds. Loveless was well-liked at the restaurant to which he took the two agents, and they were given extra attention by the waiters. Expensive was the word Artie used when he saw the outside of the building, and he quickly learned that was an understatement. However, it was not him footing the bill, so he happily ordered what he wanted. When it was all said and done, Loveless didn't pay a penny either. The headwaiter was so honored by Miguelito's presence that he told them it was on the house. It was puzzling to Artemus how the dwarf could get in with anyone's good graces, but one never knew with Loveless.

After taking their leave, they walked mindlessly threw the city and somehow ended up down by the railway station. Loveless stood on the platform excitedly and pointed out trains to the agents as they idly watched them come and go. The fascination that Loveless had with steam engines startled Jim. How that dwarf ever knew half of what he did had always amazed West.

"And look there; is that one not a beaut? And…oh my gentlemen," Loveless jumped down from his seat. "Is that not your train, the Wanderer?"

"Why…I believe you're right!" Artie agreed as he spotted the familiar train.

Loveless smiled widely, then began to laugh. "Oh, this is much better than I hoped. Now we can take your train down to Kansas. How very convenient."

Mystified, the trio walked over, and found Orrin Cobb at the engine.

"Why, Mr. West! Mr. Gordon!" he smiled broadly. "I've been wondering when I would see you two again."

"Orrin, what are you doing here? I expected you to be in Washington by now."

"Oh, I was Mr. Gordon, but Colonel Richmond had to come down here on official business and so he took the Wanderer.

"How very convenient for us," Loveless clapped his hands.

"Mr. Gordon, are you planning to borrow this train?"

"Well…"

"We are," Loveless smiled. "So make ready, for we want to leave as soon as possible."

"It's ready now," a mischievous smile played on the engineer's face as he thought about the situation.

"Then we shall leave now, once our belongings are loaded."

It didn't take Loveless long to have the train underway, and they were soon speeding along for Kansas.

"Jim, when Richmond finds us, he's going to kill us. You know that, right?" Artie asked.

"Yup. And all I can hope for is a fair trial."

"Just so long as we're on the same page," he smiled.

"Absolutely," Jim smiled back.

* * *

The head of the Secret Service office in Sacramento, sat uncomfortably as Colonel Richmond paced his office.

"This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard," Richmond mumbled as he walked back and forth. "You actually lost the train?"

"Yes, sir. The Wanderer is un-locatable," Sadler sheepishly replied.

"How does one lose a train?" Richman looked incredulous.

"Well I…I don't know, sir."

"Oh, that's rich. You'd better come up with a better answer than that, or you can start cleaning out your office."

"Yes, sir." He gulped.

"Telegram for you, sir." An agent walked in, quickly delivered his message and left.

Richmond snatched it from his hand and tore it open.

LETTER WAS A HOAX STOP RETURN TO WASHINGTON STOP GRANT

"What?" Richmond glared at the telegraph. "A wild goose chase! I've been sent on a wild goose chase. Well, I hope whoever invented this game had a good laugh, because when I find them I will personally rip them apart."

"Sir, please sir," Saddler walked sheepishly over to Richmond. "It hasn't been a total loss, has it?"

Richmond turned upon him angrily. "All I have discovered since I have been here is your complete incompetence as the head of the Secret Service in Sacramento."

Mr. Sadler backed away from Richmond, and sank into a chair. Richmond watched him, irritated. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was a man who wouldn't stand up for himself. Disgusted, Richmond made for the desk and seated himself behind it.

"A hoax," Richmond muttered. "Why? What was there to gain? Unless of course they're the same ones who stole the train. No, doesn't make sense," he muttered to himself as he considered the problem.

* * *

"Jeremy?" Frank tried again for the third time in two hours to get a reply from him. He was rewarded with a grunt.

"What do you want, Frank? Can't you leave me alone?"

"Sure. Just as soon as you tell me where we're going."

"To see Richmond, of course," Jeremy glared at Frank.

"Well, that's what I thought, but we've been going around this block for the greater part of an hour, and I for one would like to get out of this saddle."

Pike glared at him, and directed his mount through the streets of Sacramento. They had arrived in the city less than three hours ago, and a day after Jim and Artemus.

Despite the foreboding look of the federal building, Jeremy was inclined to go into it. Richmond's telegram had said it was urgent, so he hurried up the stairs to the foreboding-looking office. The tension in the room matched it's austere look, and Jeremy instantly wished he could be miles away. Richmond didn't notice them at first, for his head was buried in his hands as he stared at the telegram on the desk. Mr. Sadler was the one who finally became brave enough to break Richmond's concentration.

Richmond looked up with some frustration at Saddler, then turned his attention to his agents. "Ah, Mr. Pike, Mr. Harper. Did you to just arrive?"

"Yes, sir," they replied in unison.

"Good. How is your case going?"

"Well, we were able to locate West and Gordon, but then they got away again," Frank mumbled.

"I see. Any idea where they might have gone?"

"Maybe," Frank smiled.

"But, sir, what has all this got to do with your telegram?" Jeremy interrupted.

"Well, I was in need of some assistance on another case, but that has now all been taken care of. You are hereby reassigned to your former case."

"Yes, sir." They started to leave, but Richmond called them back.

"However, I do have a small problem you might be able to solve."

"Sir?" They sat back in their chairs.

"I came here on the Wanderer and left it in the rail yard waiting until I returned. Yesterday it went missing and we have been unable to locate it as of yet." Richmond looked sideways at Sadler.

"We tried our best, sir," Sadler mumbled, hanging his head.

"Yes, Mr. Sadler, I know _all _about your best," Richmond scoffed.

"You know, sir, I found the train in San Francisco, and had it sent back to Washington," Jeremy began.

"Yes, Mr. Pike, I am well aware that it was you who found it." Richmond rolled his eyes and folded his arms.

"Perhaps West and Gordon were on their way to San Francisco, but stopped here instead?" Jeremy looked questioningly at Richmond.

"They took the train?" Richmond considered this.

"I think it quite possible, sir. I know Mr. Cobb, and he wouldn't have let just anyone on bored the Wanderer."

"I was wondering about that," Richmond mumbled as he walked about the room.

"True, but with a two-day head start, how are we to locate them?" Sadler asked, rising from his chair and joining in the conversation.

Richmond glared at him and the look sent him back to his chair.

"I have reason to believe that they might be headed for Kansas," Jeremy offered.

"Oh?"

"Yes, sir, I acquired this information in New Westminster."

"Well, Kansas is as good as any place to start. I'll have a train ready and waiting for you gentlemen in an hour," Richmond waved them off, and the two rose to leave. "Mr. Pike, see that you get them this time," he warned.

"Yes, sir." Pike gently shut the door, and started after Frank.

Turning back to Mr. Sadler, Richmond frowned at him. "Now, Mr. Sadler, do you think you could have a train ready in an hour?"

"Yes, sir," Sadler mumbled, jumping to his feet and starting for the door.

Richmond watched him go, then wearily sat at the desk. "How did he ever become a Secret Service agent? Head of a department, too." Again, he sighed and picked up the telegraph he had been studying earlier.

"All a hoax? I think not," Richmond smiled. Jumping to his feet, he hurried out the door, stuffing the telegram in his pocket as he went.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Sheridan City, Kansas, was nothing more than a boom town that had prospered because of the railroad that went through it. Nevertheless, it was the place Loveless said they would find Antoine Moreau.

"We must be careful now," Loveless said as they had lunch. "I have been here only once, but I know Antoine has just about everyone here in his pocket. If we run into trouble, don't look for help amongst the town, you'll only run into more trouble."

"Does Antoine live in town?" Jim asked.

"No, he lives about ten miles outside Sheridan City," Loveless smiled. "But please Mr. West I implore you not to try to get the location from me. That is one thing I shall not disclose."

"Does he come to town often?" Artemus asked as he stared past Loveless and out the door.

"I'm not sure, why?" Loveless turned to see what had caught the agent's attention and was just in time to see Antoine Moreau dismount and enter the café. Turning quickly back around, he sent a frown in Jim's direction.

"He would have to show up," he mumbled.

They were seated at a corner table, right next to a swinging door that led into the kitchen. Hidden partly behind the bar that ran along the wall, you couldn't see them very well upon entering, but they had an excellent view of the door.

"Think we should make a quiet exit?" Artie asked.

Loveless folded his arms and pouted. "I guess we'd better. I don't want him to know of our arrival just yet."

"Then you'd better find a way to hide the train, 'cuz it's sitting in broad daylight at the depot," Jim informed him.

"Oh, that's easy. I'll just send Mr. Cobb down the line a little way and have him wait for us." Loveless threw his napkin on the table and quietly slipped out of his chair, and through the swinging door. A few moments later, Jim and Artemus did likewise and headed for the Wanderer.

Orrin reluctantly agreed to wait for them down the track a ways.

"There," Loveless smiled. "Now we must devise a plan, but first I think I shall rest. Long journeys always make me tired." Loveless' grin stretched from ear to ear as he waddled down the boardwalk toward the hotel.

Keeping behind the dwarf, Jim followed him while Artemus remained seated at the depot in deep thought. The sound of a train pulling in aroused him from his thoughts and he stood to watch. Jeremy Pike and Frank Harper were the first ones off the train and, thankfully for Artemus, he saw them before they could spot him. Ducking behind the train, he waited until they had passed, then hurried to the hotel in search of Jim.

"However did they find us?" Loveless moped after hearing the news. "No matter, I can have them quietly taken care of." He smiled.

Jim and Artie returned his smile with a frown. "That won't be necessary. All we have to do is stay out of their way," Artemus said.

"Come now, Mr. Gordon, hiding from those two for any length of time will be impossible. All they have to do is ask the clerk at the desk if he's seen us. It shouldn't be too hard for the clerk to identify us," Loveless sighed.

"I don't think he'll give us away at first," Artie smiled. "I paid him to keep his mouth shut."

"That might work for the time being, but it shall still be very inconvenient to stay out of their way for the remainder of our time here," Loveless pouted.

"Can't be helped," Artie shrugged.

"For once I think I am inclined to agree with Loveless." Jim piped up. "If Jeremy finds me, he'll haul me back to Washington, no questions asked."

"Well, what do you propose we do about it?" Artemus frowned at him.

"Gentlemen, this really is getting us nowhere fast, and I need to rest. Why don't we finish this conversation after dinner?" Loveless smiled at the both of them, as he shoved them out of his room.

Standing out in the hall, the two smiled sheepishly at one another and started for the back stairs. They didn't want to risk being seen by Antoine or Jeremy and Frank, so once out of the hotel they snuck along the alley ways until they came to the saloon.

Fine whiskey and women is what it proudly advertised on its sign, and the agents decided to test its worth. Picking a table in the corner, they sipped on two cold beers.

Artemus took a gulp then cringed. "This sure isn't the best beer I've ever had. Maybe I should have gone with the whiskey."

Jim smiled. "Having problems with your liquor?"

"Now is that what I said?" Artemus frowned.

"To tell you the truth, I wouldn't know. I really wasn't paying attention," Jim's smile faded and his face became serious.

"Well, that's the last time I tell you anything."

"Got the time?"

"Yeah," Artie pulled out his watch. "Two o'clock, why?"

Humor danced on Jim's face. "Just wondering." He went back to his drink.

Artemus thought for a moment before realizing why Jim had asked for the time, and he slapped his partner on the back just as he was taking a big drink.

Choking on the foamy liquid, Jim put down his cup and frowned at his partner.

Artemus looked at him innocently. "I sure am sorry. Didn't mean to make you spill your drink all down the front of you."

"Yes you did," Jim glared.

"You're right, I did." Artie smiled. "But come on, let's go bother Loveless, we've let him sleep for an hour and it's about time we got this case wrapped up." He rose to his feet and Jim followed suit.

Snaking up the back stairs, of the hotel they rapped lightly on Loveless' door. There was no answer. Finding this odd, Jim rapped louder. Still, there was no reply and after trying the handle he found it unlocked. The room was completely empty and it was evident there had been a struggle.

"Bother," Artie mumbled as he looked at the mess.

"Quite. He was the only one who knew how to get into Antoine's place without going through the front gate," Jim mumbled.

"Think maybe he's just playing one of his games?"

"No," Jim looked about gloomily.

"Guess we should find out where he went then."

"Yeah," James sighed.

Artie began to chuckle. "You know, that little man has captured us more times than I can count and probably captured dozens of other people too. But I bet this is one of the first times he's ever been hauled off himself."

Jim smiled, "Artie, you have a warped sense of humor."

"Thank you," Artie bowed slightly and they started out of the room.

* * *

Antoine Moreau passed back and forth in front of his prisoner, wondering what to do. Loveless glared at his captor as he reclined in the chair to which he was tied to.

"Why do you look at me like that?" Antoine finally snapped.

"I was wondering when you might allow me to know the time of my death," Loveless smiled.

"That depends on you. When George returns we shall start the process."

"Oh? I'm not to be killed quickly? Really, Monsieur Antoine, do you intend to make me suffer?"

Antoine frowned, "I shall make you hate the day you laid eyes on me. You have done nothing but ride and mock me since the day we met, and I intend to make you eat your words," Antoine spat with venom.

"Revenge? How droll," Loveless yawned.

For a moment the Frenchman's eyes flared with anger but he quickly covered it with a smile.

"I see that you do not mind the fun and games I have planned for you. Good, it shall make it all the more interesting."

Loveless continued his pretense of not caring, and the Frenchman went back to his pacing. George returned shortly after, and Antoine had him tie the dwarf to the table, as he readied several instruments. Never before was Loveless more angered than at that moment. Antoine seemed to be taking his time picking a knife, and the dwarf couldn't stand the obvious toying. His waiting ended shortly when for Antoine decided that he had drug out the anticipation long enough. Picking up a very slender knife he plunged it into the dwarf's shoulder.

"You know, Dr. Loveless, as much as I want to see you suffer, I never was known for dragging things out too long."

"How very convenient for me," Loveless gasped.

Antoine slowly pulled out his blade, and watched the little man squirm with satisfaction.

"Good at dishing it out, but not so good at taking it, are we?"

Loveless refrained from answering and Antoine laughed.

* * *

"Two miles due east?" Jim repeated the answer.

"That's right, you can't miss the place," the blacksmith replied as he went back to hammering a horse shoe.

"Thanks, you've been a big help. I'll be sure to let Antoine know that it was you who helped me," James smiled.

"You do that," the burly man replied with a smile.

Unsure what to think of that answer, Jim smiled and rode off down the street after Artemus. He found him in the saloon, standing at the bar surrounded by a group of men. All of them were laughing, but none of them seemed to be happy.

"What a dude!" One of them mocked, and the others laughed.

Artie smiled, mildly amused, and turned back to his drink.

"Gentlemen!" Jim called as they started to advance on his partner. "Might I know what the problem is?"

"Oh boys look, we got ourselves another dude."

Jim's smile mimicked that of Artie's. "It seems that you're having a disagreement with my friend there, and I'd like to straighten things out."

"Oh, boy," Artie sighed. "Come on Jim, I think it's time for a hasty departure."

Looking over his shoulder, Jim saw Jeremy and Frank making their way for the saloon.

"Darn it, can't they pick a better time?" Jim mumbled, starting for Artie.

"Are those law men?" the one who had been doing all the talking asked as he watched the two outside the saloon.

"Yes. Sorry fellers, I guess you don't get that fight." The agents bolted out the back door.

Jeremy smelled trouble the minute he stepped foot in the saloon. A group of men had collected at one side of the bar and they watched as he and Frank entered.

"You know, Jeremy, I'm really not that thirsty," Frank whispered, noticing the tension.

"I don't care about a drink, I'm after information," Jeremy whispered back and walked up to the bar. Starting his spiel for the sixteenth time that day, he asked the bartender if he had seen a Mr. West and a Mr. Gordon.

"Who wants to know?" the talker of the group asked.

"I do. You going to make something of it?" Jeremy threatened.

"Maybe," the man replied lazily.

Looking back to the bartender, Jeremy repeated his question.

"We don't like your kind around here, mister," the man walked down the bar and stood even with Jeremy.

"Why don't you go home before you get hurt, _son_." Jeremy said quietly.

The big man's eyes went wide and he threw a punch. He missed and Jeremy threw one of his own. Then the whole saloon exploded with action.

"It looks like they got their fight after all," Artie smiled at Jim, as a chair came flying through the swinging doors.

"Looks that way."

They mounted their horses and quickly hurried out of town to find Antoine.

* * *

A woman, no older than twenty-three, trudged through the streets of Washington D.C. looking for her absent husband. She held in one hand the small hand of her five year old son, and with the other she tightly clutched her wrap. It was a cold May in D.C. and it had been raining all that week, making it colder and more depressing than usual. Her search for her husband had so far been unsuccessful, but she had not given up hope yet. Her long brown hair fell about her shoulders and curled at the ends as she made her way in the misty air.

"Mommy?" the curly headed boy asked.

"Yes, William?" the mother looked down lovingly at her son.

"Mommy, do you think we could stop and get some dinner? If you think it's okay to not look for Daddy for just a moment."

The mother smiled sadly at her rosy-cheeked boy. "I'm sorry, William, but Mommy has nothing to buy dinner with."

"That's okay, Mommy," William answered quickly. "We can wait until we find Daddy."

"Yes, and when we find Daddy, he shall give us a wonderful dinner."

They started off again, but at a faster pace. It was close to two months since Martha had seen her husband and, although she had reported his disappearance to the authorities, they had found no trace of him. She had left it up to them until her money had run out, and now she was resorting to looking herself.

She had first become worried about him when he had started to go around with another gentleman. Martha was unsure why, but there was something about the other gentleman that she didn't like. She had tried to talk her husband out of going so much with him, but he had told her the man was fine and to not worry so much. However, she continued to worry and it had only amplified when her husband disappeared along with his mysterious friend.

She and her little boy had been walking all day and she knew that William was not going to be able to go much further.

"_If only I could find him!" _she thought fervently.

"Mommy, look!" William pointed down the street at a man coming out of a pub.

There in the dim light, Martha could just make out the figure of her husband's friend.

"Hurry, William!" she urged, and they quickened their pace. "We must catch him."

Running, she intercepted the man just before he stepped into a cab.

"Mr. Fletcher!" She sighed. "Please, I was wondering if you could help me. My husband has gone missing and I cannot find him anywhere! Please, Mr. Fletcher, you were the last one with my husband, do you know where he is?"

"Ma'am, I am very sorry, but I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Oh, please, you must know," she whispered, as she began to cry.

"Please, Mommy, don't cry." The boy hugged his mother close.

"Yes, ma'am, please do not distress yourself so. Come." Fletcher said, very distraught over the woman. Taking her elbow, he led them back into the warm pub and seated them next to the fire. "Now, shall I get you something to eat, and we can talk about this?" He smiled a little too warmly.

If she had been alone, Martha would have said no. But she had her son to think of and knew he was hungry so she accepted the offer. A few moments later, Martha happily watched her son devouring his supper.

"I really am grateful, sir. I don't know how I shall ever repay you," Martha smiled.

"Think nothing of it," David Fletcher waved her off. "Now, I should like to be of help. I'm afraid I don't know who you are or who your husband is."

"I'm sorry. We've never formally met. My husband, Jonathan Devers, was a friend of yours I believe? He pointed you out to me once, and I saw you many times with him when you stopped at my house. Oh, please Mr. Fletcher, you must help me find him."

David had gone a shade whiter. "Ma'am, I was unaware that Mr. Devers was married. On the contrary, he told me he was not."

Martha smiled. "Yes, he normally does that."

"What?"

"You'd have to really know my husband to understand. He does not feel that it is right to bring an unmarried man into our home, so he normally solves that problem by claiming he is a bachelor."

"You are right, I don't understand."

"Never mind about that, do you know where he is?"

David's face sobered. "Mrs. Devers, I'm very sorry to have to be the one to tell you, but your husband died two months ago in a cab accident in Fredericksburg. How could you not know?"

"Oh, my!" Martha's face grew pale and she buried her head in her hands as she began to cry. "I didn't even know he had gone to Fredericksburg."

"What's wrong Mommy?" William asked worriedly, as he tried to hug his mother close.

"Please ma'am, don't cry. May I take you home?"

"No," Martha shook her head. "Thank you, you've been most kind, I just…" she continued weeping and David sat there, unsure of what to do.

"Mommy? Don't cry Mommy, it'll be alright." the boy's eyes had teared but he bravely gave his mother a warm smile.

"Mommy will be alright," Martha smiled. "Thank you again, sir. I don't know how I shall ever repay you." She rose to leave and David jumped up.

"No, please, let me take you home. If not for your sake, for the boy's?"

Martha looked down at her small boy and saw how tired he was. "Well, I guess for William's sake."

David smiled and escorted her outside to a waiting cab. No sooner had the buggy started, than William lay sleeping in his mother's lap.

"He's a fine lad," David smiled, watching the sleeping boy.

"Yes," Martha stroked his curly hair.

"I really am sorry about your husband. I wish I didn't have to give you such bad news."

"It really isn't your fault," She whispered holding back the lump in her throat. "Only I have no place to go and no one to look after William."

"Please ma'am, surely there is someone who can help you?"

"Only William's grandmother, but I doubt…" She looked up at him. "Never mind, Mr. Fletcher, I shouldn't have bothered you."

"No, please go on."

Martha shook her head. "No I've bothered you enough."

The cab jolted to a halt. David jumped down and carried William into the house, laying him on his bed. He then got a fire going for Martha and smiled happily as they had a cup of tea.

"Please, Mrs. Devers, will you take this for the boy's sake?" He held out a wad of bills for her as he stood on the doorstep, ready to take his leave.

Her eyes widened. "I cannot take that much, not even for William."

"Please, ma'am, for the boy?"

She stood a moment longer, trying to decide, before finally taking it. "Alright, Mr. Fletcher, but you must promise me to have dinner with me and my son sometime as repayment."

"Agreed!" David smiled and hurried down the steps to his cab.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Stealthily the two agents crept down the hall in Antoine's Spanish-style hacienda. It hadn't been very hard to find the place. The house was on a hill and, even though it sat several miles back from the road you could see it from there. It was even easier getting in, but the agents were cautious about their easy entrance. They sneaked, guns in hand, down the long hall way. They really had no idea where they were going until they heard a loud wail. Then they started to move towards the source of the sound. They only heard it once in a while, however, which made the going slow, especially since there were lots of rooms and the wail could have come from any of them.

"James, my boy, I hate to say this but I think I'm lost," Artemus said, turning to his partner.

"Oh c'mon, Artie, you can't get lost if you don't know where you were going in the first place," Jim smiled.

"Very funny, Jim. Since you seem to be _so _full of confidence, why don't you lead the way for a little while?"

Jim continued to smile, as he took the lead. They wandered the halls for some time until Jim was about to admit he too was lost. At that precise moment, they heard a very loud scream coming from up ahead, which lasted for some moments. The blood froze in his veins as he listened to it, but he boldly kept going until he located the door. He was about to open it, when the sound of voices and approaching footsteps met his ear, and he and Artemus ducked quickly into a room across the hall.

"Good grief!" Artemus whispered as he looked around the room they had entered. "I knew Antoine was rich, but this is ridiculous."

Jim, who had been peeking out the door, turned and was amazed at the rectangular room. It had to be the ballroom, for there were three crystal chandeliers hanging from a high ceiling that was ornately decorated with gold. The wood floor was patterned throughout the room and had several different types of wood. One whole wall was nothing but mirrors with gold frames and two small doors in the corners. The walls adjacent to and opposite of the mirrored wall, were covered with a silken upholstery fabric threaded with gold. Directly across from the agents was a long line of French doors with light colored silky curtains hanging in front of each one. There was a small seating arrangement in one corner, and chairs positioned every few feet along the walls. The door that the agents had come through was a rich-colored oak, and was also a French door centered in that wall.

"What in the world would he do with a room like this out in the middle of nowhere?" Artemus wondered.

"He probably plans to be someone important someday and built this room to entertain his future guests," Jim mumbled.

"Guess he figures he's that important now. This room has been recently cleaned, and there are no sheets covering the chandeliers or the furniture. So unless I have missed my guess, I'd say he was planning on having a party soon."

"You have not missed your guess, Mr. Gordon. Antoine is planning on entertain guests very soon."

The agents whirled and pointed their guns at the source of the sound. There standing in the doorway smiling, was Dr. Thornton! A man neither agent had seen before stood beside of him, rifle cocked and ready.

* * *

Antoine's men had always claimed that the one form of torturer their boss enjoyed using the most was the iron rod. For the past hour he had quite enjoyed himself using it on Dr. Loveless. Naturally, Loveless hadn't found the situation amusing, and he swore that if he ever got that rod away from Antoine he'd poke his eyes out with it. But, thankfully for both parties, Antoine finally got bored with it.

He turned and looked around the room for something new to use when his eyes lit upon a tool kit. Smiling, he brought it back with him and set it on the table next to his victim.

Feeling hot and slightly woozy, Loveless turned to see what Antoine had found. He felt sick when he saw the toolbox and quickly turned his head away. Antoine failed to notice, for he was having fun pulling out things he thought might be useful. His hand finally found a hammer and he picked it up. Laying the head on Loveless' shoulder he compared the size. Satisfied that it would do, he drew it back. Loveless' eyes widened and he instinctively tensed, waiting for the blow, however, all he felt was the cold metal laid against his shoulder. Antoine smiled and Loveless glared. The glare must have been something to see, for it made Antoine mad, and he grabbed up the hammer and brought it crashing down on Miguelito's collarbone.

Stars exploded before Loveless' eyes, and the last sound he heard was himself screaming. After that he passed out. As soon as Antoine realized this, he disappointedly looked at his toolbox.

"No matter," he shrugged. "I'll just use them when he wakes up."

Stepping away from his victim he moved over to the corner where George was waiting with lunch. The corner was very different from the rest of the room, the flooring was wood and there were several floor to ceiling windows and a door that led outside. It was a step up from the rest of the room and very finely furnished.

It was rather odd that Antoine had chosen to put his "operating room," as it was known, on the first floor instead of in the cellar, but that was where he found it to be the most accessible to himself. "Besides, I never do my "operations" when I have company," he had told many a "patient".

"Shall I take Dr. Loveless down to a cell?" George asked after he had finished serving Antoine lunch.

"No, I should like to finish him as soon as he wakes up. I'm tired of him," Antoine frowned as he finished his vegetable soup.

"Yes, sir. I would imagine that the dwarf would not be as entertaining as a normal-sized man," George said.

"Oh, size really has nothing to do with it. It's how much a person can take that interests me. Loveless really didn't have a high pain tolerance, so it made him rather boring."

The statement in itself was untrue, but George refrained from contradicting his boss.

Sully, Matt, Lan, and Ivan entered the room and hurried over to Antoine. They stood rather impatiently for some moments, waiting for Antoine to acknowledge them. When he didn't, Matt was the first to make their presence known.

"Boss? We did everything just like you asked." He took a step closer.

Antoine ignored him and continued to eat. Matt, frustrated that he was being ignored, stepped closer.

"We finished everything like you asked, boss. Can we―"

"Sully," Antoine interrupted. "Is everything in order?"

"That's what I―" Matt began again, only to be cut off again.

"Yes, sir," Sully replied, shooting a glance in Matt's direction.

"Good, then you and your comrades may have the rest of the afternoon off. However, I do expect you to be ready by seven o'clock." Antoine gave them all a warning glance before glaring at Matt.

"Yes, sir," they all mumbled in return.

All, that is, except Matt. Antoine continued to glare at him and Matt held the gaze.

"You may leave, gentlemen." Antoine shooed them away with his hand, and they all quickly left, including Matt.

"George?"

"Yes, boss?" George took a step forward.

"I want you to keep your eyes on Matt. I don't like his attitude."

"Yes, boss." George went back to his post

There was a few moments of peace, before the door to the operating room banged open again and a voice called out, "Antoine!"

The Frenchman choked on his soup as he heard the voice. "Dr. Thornton?" he queried, rising to his feet and going to have a look.

Standing in the doorway were Jim, Artie, Dr. Thornton and a man Antoine knew as Trenton.

"What?" Antoine's face paled considerably as he looked at the agents. "I thought you two were dead," he mumbled. "And you, Dr. Thornton, did not Loveless do away with you?"

Antoine stared in shock as George quickly came to stand behind him.

"Dr. Loveless' intentions were not to kill me the night he blew up part of the federal building. In fact I highly doubt he even knew I was there," Thornton snapped at Antoine. "As for these two," he waved a hand at Jim and Artie, "they escaped dying when I threw the gas bomb out the open door of the train."

"Wait," Artie stepped forward puzzled. "You mean that Antoine planted a gas bomb on the train?"

"George did it, really," Antoine smiled. "He left it in the cell after letting out my men."

"Is that why I don't remember the rest of the train ride?" Jim mumbled.

"Yes, Mr. West. You and Mr. Gordon inhaled enough of the gas to put you both to sleep, for several days I might add."

"Very potent stuff," Artemus commented.

"Very," Thornton agreed. "But this is not why I am here."

"I figured not. Shall we finish this conversation elsewhere?" Antoine asked, starting for the door.

"No, I'd like to finish it now." Thornton smiled and started for Antoine's corner when, for the first time, he saw Loveless. "Is he…?"

"Not yet," Antoine answered.

"I see." Thornton continued on his way with the agents, Antoine, George and Trenton in tow.

* * *

David Fletcher kept his promise to Mrs. Devers and had dinner with her the following evening. It really had been a wonderful time and David had been sorry to go, but it was late and he knew that Martha had things to do. Regretfully, he took his leave.

"Thank you for coming," Martha smiled. "We enjoyed having you."

"Thank you for having me. I rather enjoyed my time," Fletcher smiled back. "Take care of your mother, William."

"I will, sir," William replied gallantly.

"Time for bed, little man," Martha teased shooing her son up the stairs. Once his rosy face had disappeared, she turned back to David. "I'm sorry you have to go so soon, but perhaps you would come again, another time?"

"I hope I may," David smiled, starting out the door.

"Goodnight, sir."

"Goodbye." He turned and walked down the path to the waiting cab. He was about to climb in when, suddenly changing his mind, he sent the cab on ahead and decided to walk.

He was rather troubled and had a lot on his mind. He hoped the night air would help clear it. He felt terrible. Actually, he couldn't seem to find a word that described his mood, and he gave up looking for one.

Mr. Devers was dead and David knew who had killed him. He had. It was terrible and he knew it. Since meeting Mr. Devers' wife, a moment hadn't gone by that David hadn't regretted ever meeting the man. His insides were eating him up with guilt and regret and every time he looked at Martha and William it amplified the feeling that much more. Sure, he had killed many people, and maybe some of them had been just as innocent as Mr. Devers, but those people David hadn't known or cared about. It was suddenly very different to meet a victim's wife and son.

"_I can't do it!" _David suddenly thought. His walk abruptly took on a determined pace.

Quietly he mounted the stairs to Richmond's office and timidly knocked on the door. It was a very different David Fletcher who entered Colonel Richmond's office than the one who entered it some months ago.

Richmond had recently returned from his trip to California and happened to be in his office, trying to get caught up on some paperwork.

"Mr. Fletcher, what can I do for you?" Richmond asked after the head of his forensics department had taken a seat. The Colonel instantly noted the pale and somewhat distracted look on David's face when he entered the office.

"Sir, I…I have some rather important news to tell you," David paused and glanced about the room.

"Yes?" Richmond asked, starting to get worried.

"I…Sir, I've made a terrible mistake."

"And that would be?"

"I…I…I wrongly diagnosed Dr. Thornton's death, in fact the man I assumed to be Dr. Thornton was in fact someone else." Fletcher stopped and began to pace the room.

"You mean that Dr. Thornton is still alive?" Colonel Richmond barked.

"Yes, sir, I'm afraid so." David stopped his pacing to look at Richmond.

"Young man, do you understand what you are saying?"

"Yes, sir."

"For nearly three months we have been scouring the countryside looking for Dr. Loveless, who supposedly killed Dr. Thornton, and now after _all _this time you come and tell me that Dr. Thornton isn't dead! He could be half-way to China right now!"

"I'm sorry, sir―"

"Sorry, Mr. Fletcher? You're sorry? Well, so am I." Richmond had been marching all about the room as he had delivered his speech, but his pacing suddenly stopped and he motioned David back to a chair as he himself went back to his own. "Mr. Fletcher, if the man you have been working on all this time is not Dr. Thornton, then who is he?"

"I'm not sure…" David started to lie but his guilt wouldn't let him go through with it. "Yes, sir. His name is Jonathan Devers. I ran into his wife the other day. From the story that she gave me and from the disruption on the body, I'd say that it was him."

Richmond gave Fletcher a shrewd look. "And just how did you happen to run into this woman?"

"Oh, it was purely coincidence," David shrugged.

"Young man, in this business coincidences hardly ever happen," Richmond smiled. "Mr. Fletcher, I sense there is more to this story than you are willing to tell."

David paled and rose from his seat. "Yes, sir, there rather is a lot more to this story."

"Care to indulge?"

For a moment David thought about dashing out of the room, but he knew it wasn't going to get him very far. _"No, your days as a double agent are up,"_ he thought with a heavy sigh.

"Sir, I've been working for another man known as Rending."

Richmond sat back in his chair and his face took on a serious look. "You do realize that in admitting this, you'll be lucky if you get life in prison."

David sighed. "Yes sir, I understand fully what I'm doing."

"Then please proceed."

"I was working for Mr. Rending before I came here. He's the one who procured a job in the secret service for me. And from time to time I give him a bit of information, or see to it that an autopsy reads the way he wants. Or, in some cases, I see to it that this or that person has a timely accident. Some months back, Mr. Rending asked me to see to it that Dr. Thornton escaped the federal prison in Fredericksburg. He asked that I find a person to put in his place, someone who could pass as Thornton at a quick glance. Well, it just so happened that at that time I had become acquainted with this other fellow who loosely fit the description given, and I decided to use him as the fall man. I drugged him and took him to Fredericksburg, where I then set Dr. Thornton free and left Mr. Devers to his fate."

"But Mr. Devers was hung-in the end that was what killed him?"

"Yes, sir. Mr. Rending had one of his henchmen hang Mr. Devers while he was still under the influence of the drug I gave him."

"So, Dr. Loveless had absolutely nothing to do with any of this?"

"No sir. It really was a coincidence that he chose to blow up part of the building the same night I broke Dr. Thornton out of prison."

"And Mr. Devers was never identified as a fraud because you doctored the blood match and fingerprints?" Richmond asked as he pieced together the last bits of the story.

"Yes, sir. I had the report altered."

"Then why did you try to throw the blame on Dr. Loveless? And why did you wait so long to do so?"

"I received a telegram from Mr. Rending which said he wanted me to put the blame on Dr. Loveless. I'm not really sure why sir, and I'm not sure why he waited so long before telling me."

"I see. Well, I don't think I have any further questions." Richmond rose and walked to his door. Poking his head out, he called down the hall for two guards.

David sighed as he gloomily awaited the fate he knew was coming. Richmond came to stand next to him.

"Mr. Fletcher, I want to say I think you did the right thing in telling me all. I will see if I can help you get a lighter sentence."

"Thank you, sir." David gave a half smile.

"Do you know where we might find Mr. Rending or Dr. Thornton?"

No, sir. I'm not sure where either man is at the moment."

"Very well."

The two guards entered the room, and Richmond directed them to David.

Slowly rising to his feet, David allowed the guards to handcuff him and lead him to the door.

"Just a minute," Richmond called.

The guards turned back around to face him.

"Mr. Fletcher, no one knew that you had anything to do with any of this. You could have gone on for years before getting caught, so why did you decided to confess?" Richmond asked.

"Because, sir, I met Mr. Devers' wife and son. She can't be older than twenty-one and I know her son is no older than five. They don't have any family left and she doesn't have a penny to her name. Sir, it's my fault that they're in that predicament and, sir, I just couldn't bare it." David felt sick, and he was sure he looked it.

"I see," Richmond's face had a gloomy look about it. "Well, at least you seem to have some remorse."

"Yes, sir."

Richmond nodded his head and the guards started out again.

"Oh, Sir?" David called back, making the guards stop.

"Yes?"

"I made a lot of money working for Mr. Rending, and I was wondering if you would make sure that Mrs. Devers receives it all? And please make sure that she never knows it was from me."

Richmond smiled. "Yes, Mr. Fletcher I'll see to it."

David nodded and allowed the guards to take him down to the cell block and lock him in. For his own safety he hadn't told Richmond the whole truth, because he knew if he had, Rending would have come after him. There was only one other person that David knew about, that had the same information that he did, and he was positive that other person would never tell. Since the list was so small, Rending would know right away who spilled the beans and he would come looking for David. No, prison was a much better place.

"_Besides, I told Richmond enough. He really doesn't need to know the rest,"_ David thought as he laid down on his cot and was soon fast asleep.

* * *

Richmond, after ordering that everything they had on Rending be brought to his office, paced as he wondered what he was going to tell Grant. Gloomily, he marched back and forth, wishing there was a better way to break the news to his superior, though he knew there was not.

"Miss?" he called to his secretary from his open door. "Is the information on Mr. Rending here yet?"

"Yes, Colonel Richmond," she replied picking up the folder and bringing it in.

"Is this all we have?" Richmond asked, somewhat surprised at how small it was.

"Yes, sir."

"Very well." Richmond sent her out, then read the three pages they had on Mr. Rending.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Antoine Moreau smiled happily as he surveyed the group of people now sitting in the corner of his "operating room". The secret service agents were seated in the back, with Trenton standing right behind them. Dr. Thornton was seated off to one side and Antoine stood at the head ready to address the group.

"Dr. Thornton, how very nice to see you again. I must admit that you gave me quite a start a few moments ago. I would also like to add that I am very sorry you didn't make it from the train." Antoine was lying through his teeth, but he saw no reason to let Thornton know how much he despised him.

George had been mixing drinks for them, and he now served them. Antoine smiled happily at George as he handed him a drink.

"You see, Dr. Thornton, I was very distraught that I would be losing such a valuable person as yourself, and I am very happy that you were able to escape. Tell me, how did you manage to escape from the federal prison?"

"None of your business," Thornton snapped. "And I did not come here to listen to you talk. For close to three years now I have done nothing but listen to your endless chatter."

"Really, Dr. Thornton." Antoine said, slightly miffed at the Doctor's rude manner.

"What do you intend to do with Dr. Loveless?" Thornton asked.

"I don't really see why that concerns you, but I had planned to finish killing him once he wakes up," Antoine replied.

"Don't. I want him alive."

"I'm not so sure he does," Artemus whispered to Jim, who laughed.

Antoine overheard, but he merely sent a glare in their direction, hushing Jim.

"Dr. Thornton, you said you had something you wanted to talk about and I for one am interested in knowing what it is you want," Antoine said, getting rather impatient.

"You are hosting a party in a few days to sell the formula, _my _formula, to the highest bidder. Am I correct?" Thornton asked.

"You are," Antoine replied.

"Whom will you credit with its discovery?" Thornton asked in reply.

"Why you, of course." Antoine looked surprised, though he was lying.

"Whom have you invited, and why are you torturing Dr. Loveless when he would probably be one of your highest bidders?"

"Dr. Loveless is out to kill me for double-crossing him. I was simply lucky enough to get to him first. Why are you asking all of these questions?"

"Because, Antoine, if you would remember, it was I who wrote out the formula for you, and I did not write down the correct one."

Antoine glared. "You mean to tell me that I do not have the complete formula?"

"That is exactly what I am saying. And if you do not do as I say, there shall be no formula to sell." Thornton sat back in his chair and allowed what he had said to sink in.

"Be careful, Dr. Thornton. You are walking on very thin ice right now. Don't push it," Antoine warned.

"The same to you," Thornton glared back.

Antoine felt he was slowly losing control of the situation, and it infuriated him that, for the moment there was nothing he could do. _"I shall do away with Dr. Thornton once I get the correct formula,"_ he thought as he studied his new adversary.

"Whom did you invite?" Thornton continued with his questions.

"I invited anyone and everyone who is interested in purchasing the formula, along with several generals and senators."

Thornton smiled. "So you are mixing business with pleasure? You always were the daring type. Too bad you chose the wrong people to double-cross."

"Dr. Loveless? Oh it is not so terrible that he shall not be joining my party. That dwarf owns almost everyone you could name. I think it best to end his input to the underworld."

Thornton shook his head. "Antoine, you always were brilliant, but not very bright."

Antoine glared. "You watch how you address me."

"Why? What are you going to do to me? Kill me? I think not." Thornton smiled.

"Dr. Thornton, you keep pressing your luck and soon I will do away with you."

Thornton leaned in closer to Antoine. "Monsieur Moreau, if you continue to press me, you shall not only never see the other half to the formula, but I shall inform Mr. Rending of your resent activities."

Antoine glared. "You make one peep to that insufferable man and I _will_ kill you."

"They seem like a happy couple," Artemus again dared to whisper to Jim.

"Mr. Gordon, keep your thoughts to yourself," Thornton snapped. "Now Antoine, I believe we both fully understand each other and I am ready to do business with you. But first, I should like to decide what to do with those two." Thornton pointed a long finger at the two agents.

Antoine smiled. Dr. Thornton had relented as he always did, and Antoine was back in control of the situation.

"I shall have George lock them up in a cell for now. We can dispose of them later."

"Why not just leave them here? It'll save George the time, and I don't think our business will take very long."

"Splendid idea," Antoine smiled.

* * *

Jeremy sat at the only table in the bar that hadn't been broken by yesterday's fight. His knuckles were sore, his head ached and his pocketbook was hurting for money. Frank had split the cost of the damages with him but it had still come to the grand total of three hundred and sixty-five dollars. The only good thing that had come of the fight was that the five men he had pummeled, or at least had tried to pummel, now considered themselves Jeremy's and Frank's friends. This meant the two agents had a source of information, which was why Jeremy was sitting in the bar at a table surrounded by the five other men. They were all laughing and having a good time, while Jeremy tried to pretend he was having a good time despite his headache.

"_If I ever find those two…" _was all he could think as he listened to the conversation around him and tried to pick out bits of important information. At the moment, the group of men were talking about women they knew in Doge City and how they were looking forward to seeing them again in a few months, just as soon as the Frenchman paid them.

"I never was good with them French names," said the leader, who name was Brad.

"Why sho' you was," the drunkest and dumbest of the group piped up. "Why I just noded that you's full of good talkin'. Show 'im how you do that impersonation."

"Oh, lay off him Carrel, he don't want to do no impersonation," Clarence huffed.

"Na, why sho' he does. C'mon Brad, show 'im."

Jeremy's interest had been piqued when they had mentioned a rich Frenchman who lived a few miles out of town, and he desperately wanted to ask them were the Frenchman lived. The only problem was, every time he opened his mouth someone else always interrupted him.

"Do ya think it's wise ta go around impersonatin' the Frenchman like that?" Riley, who everyone usually ignored, asked sheepishly.

"Oh, hush your mouth!" Clarence huffed. "I think I do wanna to hear him do it."

"Excuse me gentlemen!" Jeremy finally shouted, causing the whole table to turn and look at him with quizzical eyes. He smiled. "I was wondering if you might tell me where I might find the Frenchman."

"Why shucks, is that all yous want? Why you alls scared the livin' daylights outta' me," Carrel drawled as he turned a lazy eye back to Brad.

"You friends with the Frenchman?" Brad asked.

"We have a slight acquaintance that I was hoping to renew," Jeremy smiled.

"Oh c'mon Brad I wanna hear your Frenchman voice," Carrel begged.

Brad's face lit up like a roman-candle, and Jeremy knew it was hopeless to try to get any more information from him. Slowly he rose from the table as Brad, very poorly, did his impersonation.

"Pike?" Riley called.

Jeremy turned, eyebrows raised.

"He lives about two miles outta town, headin' east."

"Thanks, thanks a lot." Jeremy smiled and left the saloon.

He ran right into Frank on his way out, causing the smaller man to stumble back. Shooting out an arm, Jeremy caught Frank before he fell off the boardwalk.

"Jeremy, I got a telegram from Richmond," Frank said as he dusted himself off.

Taking it from his friend's outstretched hand, Jeremy quickly read it.

BE ADVISED THORNTON STILL ALIVE STOP

"Rather an odd telegram," Jeremy mumbled. "Are you sure this is from Richmond?"

"Yup, quite sure."

"Hmm…If Dr. Thornton is still alive, then I think it's a good assumption that he's probably with Antoine Moreau."

"And where Mr. Moreau is, Jim and Artemus can't be that far behind," Frank observed.

"Loveless too," Jeremy smiled. "You know, Frank, I think this case is coming to a close. And I can't wait to get my hands on Mr. West and Mr. Gordon." Jeremy wrapped his arm around Frank and the two stared for their horses.

Like Jim and Artemus, they had no trouble finding the place, and no troubled breaking in as well. In fact, the room they broke into happened to be the operation room. Thus they found Jim and Artemus tied to two chairs, much to Jeremy's delight.

With a huge smile on his face, he sauntered into the room and into the agent's view.

"Well, look who came to rescue us," Jim said sarcastically, nudging Artie's foot to wake him.

Groggily and stiffly Artie raised his head and frowned at Jeremy and Frank, who were making no move to untie them.

"Some rescue," Artemus sniffed.

"Well now, is that any way to talk to the man with a knife?" Jeremy said.

"He does have a point, Artie. He is the only one with a knife."

"That's right, and I get to decide when I'm going to use it," Jeremy looked at them smugly, then turned his attention to Loveless. "Good gravy! What happened to him?" He cried, jumping back.

Loveless did look terrible. Antoine had not returned since his meeting with Thornton the day before and Loveless had been left strapped to the table. His shoulder had an ugly bruise as well as a wound where Antoine had stabbed him. He had burn marks all over him and was white as a sheet, making the crimson color of his wounds stand out.

"He was a victim of Antoine's boredom," Artemus said in answer to Jeremy's question.

"Since you two seem set on making us suffer, the least you could do is set him free and do something to help him," Jim said.

"Alright, alright." Frank held up his hands in defense, then began to untie the dwarf.

Jeremy, although regretting that he could no longer leave the agents tied up, decided that it was time to let them free. Reluctantly, he pulled out his knife and slit the ropes.

"Thank you, Jeremy. I'm very happy to know that you finally came to your senses," Jim smiled.

"My senses never left me, thank you very much. I think it's you who should be worried about having lost your senses," Jeremy sniffed as he stood nose to nose with Jim.

"An excellent point, Jeremy. Jim has been known to completely lose his mind on a few incidences." Artemus smiled searched for his gun in the room.

Frank laughed and Jeremy cracked a smile.

"And just whose side are you on?" Jim scoffed at his partner.

"Yours, of course, but I saw no reason to let yours and Jeremy's argument continue. It was just easier to pronounce that you were in the wrong. Ah, here we are!" he exclaimed as his eyes lit upon his and Jim's guns.

Taking them up he tossed Jim his and quickly strapped on his own. Frank had Dr. Loveless ready to go, and Jeremy was just advancing for the door when it suddenly flew open and Antoine, George, Dr. Thornton, Sully and Matt came hurrying into the room. They stopped dead in their tracks and stared at the occupants of the room for a second before exploding into action. Jeremy met with George and Frank wrestled with Matt. Jim and Artemus fought with Dr. Thornton and Sully as Antoine tried to finish off Dr. Loveless.

Dr. Loveless had remained unconscious until Frank had dropped him back onto the table. The little Doctor's eyes had fluttered open and he was just in time to see Antoine advancing on him with a knife. Moving quickly, he rolled out of the way and onto the floor, where he laid, unable to move. Antoine, annoyed that he had gotten away, marched over to the other side of the table and smiled as he found Loveless gasping for air. Slowly he knelt next to him.

"For close to nine years now you have beaten me at everything you could name, and now I shall end our rivalry. Goodbye, Dr. Loveless." Antoine raised his knife back, and at the same instant was stabbed in the stomach, blade pointing up, by Loveless. Shock and realization covered Antoine's face and for one fleeting moment he tried to get at Loveless, but the knife slipped from his hand and he fell dead on the floor.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you to kill first and talk later?" Loveless smiled. Then peeking around the table, he tried to get a look at the fight taking place.

George, who had been fighting on the opposite side of the table from Loveless, suddenly came hurtling over it, and landed next to Antoine. He instantly realized Antoine was dead, and sent out the most horrific scream Loveless had ever heard. The noise caused the whole room to freeze and come look. George was sobbing.

"Poor man," Dr. Thornton said, with no real feeling in his voice.

Matt and Sully exchanged appalled glances at the sight of George. He was a rather pitiful sight to behold, weeping uncontrollably on the neck of his dead employer and clawing at the knife sticking out of Antoine.

"Come on," Artie said softly to the group, and they all turned to look at him.

Faces fell at the sight of the six-gun in the agent's hand. Dr. Thornton was the first to come up with a solution to his predicament when suddenly George lurched up and knocked over the operating table.

"Where is that little runt!" George bellowed, searching the room for Dr. Loveless.

Now that it was mentioned, the whole room had to agree that Loveless did seem to have suddenly vanished into thin air. Everyone started to glance about in search of the little man. George went about the room, tearing things apart as he searched. It took Frank, Jeremy and Jim to finally stop the man and bring him to stand with the others.

"Well, we lost him, _again_," Jim spouted.

Artemus shrugged and nodded his head with frustration. "Maybe not, he was in a rather bad way," he said hopefully.

"I assume you two are referring to Dr. Loveless?" Thornton asked. He didn't get an answer from either agent so he took that as a yes. "You see, I thought I might be able to bargain with you. You let me go and I'll tell you where Loveless went." He received glares from the whole room, causing him to shut up.

"Look, Jeremy, why don't you and Frank take the prisoners back to town, and Jim and I will have a look around for Loveless," Artemus suggested.

The idea was acceptable and after the prisoner's guns were collected, Jeremy and Frank started them out of the room with Jim and Artemus behind. They all entered the ballroom, since it was a fastest way out of the house, and had just made to the long line of French doors when Dr. Loveless entered the room.

"Gentlemen," he called as he stood with a bowl of something at his feet.

Intrigued by his sudden reappearance, they all moved a step closer.

"Stay where you are, gentlemen." Loveless warned. "I don't think any of you would want me to have to use this. According to its creator, the size of a pea will blow this house sky high." Loveless smiled at Dr. Thornton. "Yes, Dr. Thornton, you are the creator of this wonderful green liquid."

The whole room froze as Loveless attached a fuse to the bowl, walked several feet away and lit up a lighter.

"Now, Mr. West, you may have those ruffians but leave Dr. Thornton to me."

"You know I can't do that. Besides, I was only helping you in order to capture Antoine Moreau, and he's dead now," Jim answered.

"An excellent point, Mr. West, and I now see that our truce is at an end." Loveless smiled. "Let me have Dr. Thornton," he ordered.

No move was made to comply with his request, so he moved his lighter closer to the tip of the fuse.

"Mr. West, it's not going to gain you very much if I blow us all sky high."

"But it won't gain you anything either." James smiled. "So, as you see Dr. Loveless, we are a stalemate."

"So we are," Miguelito replied.

A staring contest began as the two rivals each tried to intimidate the other, however it was abruptly interrupted by the loud entrance of Trenton. He still held the rifle in his hand and before anyone could move he took a shot at Dr. Loveless. His bullet skimmed Dr. Loveless' hand, the one that held the lighter, causing it to light off his fuse. Trenton swung the rifle toward the agents and their prisoners, but Artemus had already fired his six-gun, hitting the would-be assassin in the heart. The prisoners scattered in all directions in the commotion, and Loveless tried very desperately to put out the fuse. His attempts were unsuccessful and try as he might he couldn't detach the fuse from the bowl either.

"Jim, grab Loveless and let's get out of here," Artemus cried as he realized the urgency of their situation.

Jim instantly complied and the four agents fled the house, Loveless in Jim's arms. They continued to run madly from the house and for the road when suddenly an explosion shook the earth sending the agents to their knees. They were quickly up and running however, dodging debris as they went. Horses were found from where they had been staked the day before, and the agents galloped for town. They didn't stop until they reached the doctor's house, which also severed as his office, at the far side town, where Loveless was left to receive care.

"I guess I should let Richmond know that you have been found and apprehended," Jeremy finally said, breaking the silence in the living room.

Jim cringed. "Yeah, you probably should."

"Although I wish you wouldn't," Artemus sighed. "I've had a rather rough day and I don't know if I can handle a lecture from Richmond right now."

"I'm only sending a telegram. What kind of lecture can he send by telegraph? Jeremy stated.

"Oh, knowing Richmond he'll think of something."

"Well, I still must let him know." Jeremy rose from his seat and headed out the door.

"Oh, Frank, run after him and tell him to send a telegram to Orrin to bring the train back into town." Artemus requested.

Jumping up from his seat, Frank chased after Jeremy, and Jim and Artemus were once more alone.

"Think Richmond will be his normal irritable self when we get back to Washington?" Jim asked.

"Oh probably. Knowing him, he'll most likely chew us out for a while, then send us on some low level mission as punishment."

"Yeah, probably, if he doesn't just fire us for being absent without leave for close to two months," Jim sighed.

Both agents lapsed into silence and soon after fell asleep. The sound of rain beating on the roof and a clap of thunder startled Artemus from his sleep. He awoke to find that it was evening and someone had lit a fire in the living room. Hushed voices came from the kitchen and Artie threw off the blanket that someone had draped over him, and headed for the other room. Jeremy, Frank and the doctor were sitting around the kitchen table eating dinner.

"Got any for me?" Artemus asked.

"Sure. Just you sit down there and I'll fix you right up," the doctor jumped up from his seat and quickly had a plate for the agent.

"How's your patient, Doc?" Artie asked as he started his meal.

"He's doing quite well. Asleep right now, but I intend to check on him in a few moments."

"Mind if I go with you?"

"Not at all, Mr. Gordon," the town doctor smiled and left the room.

"Mind telling me why we're still here?" Artemus asked Jeremy.

"You and Jim fell asleep, and the Doc said it was fine if we stayed for dinner," Jeremy replied.

"The hotel's all full anyway," Frank added.

"Do we know if anyone else escaped hacienda?" Artie questioned.

"Not sure. Just about the whole town went out there after the explosion and, as of right now, we're unsure if anyone else survived."

Artie nodded his head. "How did Richmond take the news?"

"Well, he's overjoyed that we were finally able to get you, Jim and Loveless. He's not too happy, however, that Antoine is dead and that we don't know where Thornton is. He wants to see you and Jim as soon as possible."

Artie nodded his head gravely and went to put his dishes in the sink. Going quietly out of the room, he went in search of the doctor, and found him just starting for Loveless' room. Artie smiled and joined him as they continued on their way. They found Loveless still asleep and after the doctor had finished his inspection of his patient, he left Artemus alone with Loveless.

The rain pounded against the window and lightning would occasionally light up the dark room. A clap of thunder would sound and then the room would grow quiet, minus the pitter-pattering on the window. Artemus tried his best to remain awake, but the fatigue from the day and the fact that he had just eaten made the agent drowsy and he once again fell asleep.

"Mr. Gordon?"

Artemus was subconsciously aware of someone calling his name, and he opened his eyes to find out who had disturbed his sleep. It was Loveless, and he was smiling at the slightly-awake Gordon.

"Loveless," Artemus said, stretching, "You're awake."

"I have been awake for some time, Mr. Gordon. It is you who have been asleep," Loveless smiled.

"What time is it?" Artemus got up from his chair and went to have a look at the clock on the wall. Three o'clock in the morning.

"I have to say, Mr. Gordon, that this is a first for me." Loveless smiled. "Our roles are rather reversed this time, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, I would." Artemus smiled.

"Would you mind giving me a drink? That is the reason I woke you anyway," Dr. Loveless requested.

With a nod, Artemus walked over to the nightstand and poured the dwarf a drink. He then helped him with the cup. As he was turning away to put the glass in its rightful place he felt a sudden sting in his arm and jerked it away just as Loveless finished injecting something into it.

"What…?" Artemus stumbled.

"A little something I had Antoinette bring me." Loveless' smile was wide, and Artie turned his head as Antoinette, Loveless' love, stepped out from the shadows.

"You won't get very far," Artemus slurred as he began to totter.

"On the contrary, Mr. Gordon, I have everything arranged. And I would sit down if I were you. You wouldn't want to fall."

As his vision started to blur, Artemus was inclined to agree. However, he missed his chair completely and ended up on the floor anyway. It then occurred to him to call out, but he was unable to form the words and soon passed out.

Antoinette had been busy helping Loveless into his coat and hat. Right before they went out the window, Loveless had her pin a note to his pillow.

* * *

"Artie? Come on Artie, time to wake up," Jim coaxed as he gently tapped his partner's face.

With a groan, Artemus' eyes snapped open and he stared at the smiling face of Jim for a few moments.

"He got away," he finally said.

"I know," Jim replied, waving a note in Artie's face. "And he left this behind."

"Read it," Artemus requested as he tried to clear his head.

"It reads: Mr. West, You have once again defeated my plans, and I have once again escaped from you. I must say that I am disappointed that I shall be gaining nothing on this trip, but of course you have gained nothing either. Send my regards to Mr. Gordon when he wakes up, Dr. Miguelito Loveless." Jim folded the note back up and smiled at Artemus.

"Well, maybe next time."

"Come on, Artie. Jeremy and Frank are already on the train waiting for us."

Artemus sighed. "Time to face the music."

"We have been putting it off for a terribly long time," Jim smiled. "Besides you've always been able to talk us out of some pretty tough situations."

"Yeah, I guess so." Artie returned the smile.

Rising somewhat stiffly, Artemus stumbled out of the house with Jim helping him to the Wanderer. He tried to think of what he was going to say to Richmond.

* * *

Colonel Richmond smiled as he walked down the steps from the federal building. He had just finished lecturing West and Gordon for the greater part of an hour, and then had sent them off to write their reports. He intended to punish them further as soon as he had a talk with the President, which was where he was headed now.

"Excuse me, sir?" A beautiful young girl approached the Colonel right before he stepped into his coach.

"Yes, Miss?"

"My name is Mrs. Martha Devers, and I heard that you were holding Mr. David Fletcher. I tried to see him but the guards at the prison informed me that I had to have a pass from you. Please, sir, I would like to see him."

"Ah, Mrs. Devers, I'm afraid that I cannot allow you to see Mr. Fletcher right now." Richmond tipped his hat and again started to climb into his coach, but Martha grabbed his arm.

"Please, sir, will you let me see him? I promise I shan't stay long. I just wish to thank him for all that he has done for me and William." Her large brown eyes pleaded with him, and Richmond couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

"Well, I guess a few moments wouldn't hurt." He gave in.

"Oh thank you, sir!" Martha cried happily.

Richmond helped her into his coach and they started on their way for the federal prison. They were quickly given admittance and Richmond left Martha alone with David Fletcher.

"Why did you come?" David asked sourly as he turned away from her.

"I came to thank you for all that you have done for me and William and to say that I am sorry you're in this place."

"Well don't be. Don't you know why I'm here?" David asked.

Martha shook her head.

"Don't you know what I've done? Didn't you know it was I who killed your husband? I've been a double agent all this time and you stand there and tell me you're sorry I'm in this predicament. Are you not appalled at the sight of me?"

Martha's face fell and her eyes filled with tears. "You killed my husband?" she asked barely above a whisper.

David had been trying to scare her away with his anger, but one look at her tear-streaked face and his anger melted.

"Oh, Martha," he sighed. "I didn't want it to be like this. I was hoping that I didn't have to be the one to tell you."

"David, why did you do it?" Martha asked as she turned her head away.

"I…I know this isn't going to help any, but I wouldn't have chosen your husband had I known he was married." He had stretched out his arms to Martha but he pulled them back before they reached her.

"You're right, it didn't help at all." Martha wiped her face as her grief turned to anger.

"Martha, I…I'm sorry," David moved to sit on his bed and he put his head in his hands.

"Why, did you choose my husband?" Martha asked as she melted into another fit of tears.

"You must understand that Mr. Rending was my boss. I had to do as he said," David pleaded.

"I suppose that includes killing innocent people," Martha snapped.

"Look, I know you despise me, but for my own benefit would you let me explain?" David glanced up with pleading eyes and after getting no response from Martha he continued. "In grew up in San Francisco. My parents never had much, and at the age of six both my parents died leaving me stranded in a big city with no money and no prospects. I ran around for a little while as a street kid, until the sheriff caught me stealing a lady's purse and hauled me off to jail. I was probably ten at the time." David stood and started to pace running his hand through his hair as he considered how to continue.

"There happened to be this man at the jail and he took one look at me and told the sheriff he'd pay my bail and see to it that I stayed out of trouble. As you might imagine that man happened to be Mr. Rending. He took me to his house and for as long as I can remember he and his half-brother looked after me. I never was quite sure why Mr. Rending took such a liking to me but he did, and I can't say I'm not grateful. Anyway, as it turned out, I happened to be a bright young lad and I was sent off to Harvard University where I got a degree as a doctor and chemist, and was very good at both I might add. You see, Mr. Rending's business was paying crooks to help them financially and he would get twenty percent of the profit off of the take, plus the money he loaned out in the first place. He and his half-brother did very well for themselves and they taught me the business. I even helped them a few times before going off to college. It so happened that after I returned with my degree, Mr. Rending informed me of a man he was having problems with, Antoine Moreau, and said he was going to go undercover to work for this man to see if he could sort out what the trouble was." David returned to his seat and leaned forward staring at the floor.

"Very few men have ever actually met Mr. Rending, and even fewer know his real name. So it was very easy for him to play a bumbling chemist. He told me he and his brother Sully had their story all straightened out and all they were waiting for was for me to take a job with the secret service, which I got a few weeks later. Mr. Rending went to work for Mr. Moreau under the assumed name of Dr. Colin Thornton, and I'm not really sure what they did with themselves during that time. In fact I had completely lost contact with Mr. Rending for several months, until a few weeks back when I was informed that he was in the federal prison and he wanted me to spring him. Well, of course I complied with his request and I'm only sorry that it happened to be your husband whom I chose to take his place."

The room fell silent as David finished his tale and Martha stood, unsure of what to think.

"Mr. Fletcher, I wish I could say that I understand, and I wish that I could tell you that I'm sorry, but I can't very well do either to the man who killed my husband." Martha said gently as she tried to hold back the lump in her throat.

"I know, I don't blame you."

"But why did you tell Colonel Richmond if you could have gotten away with it?"

"Don't you know?" David looked her right in the eye. "I guess maybe you don't," he frowned and put his head back in his hands.

Martha stood puzzled for just a moment before realization dawned. "Oh," she dropped her head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Fletcher, I wish things could have been different, I really do." She knelt next to him and laid her hand on his knee.

"Me too." He glanced up and for a moment their eyes locked and he wished with all his heart that he could make her his.

"Time's up, Mrs. Devers." Richmond called from the door.

"Goodbye, David." Martha gave a weak smile.

"Goodbye, Martha. Give my love to William?" David asked.

Martha stopped at the door and smiled at him before turning and leaving with Richmond.

The solid medal door slammed shut and echoed in the room. David heaved a great sigh and laid back down on his cot.

* * *

Dr. Thornton, aka Colin Rending, smiled happily as he limped down the streets of Wichita, Kansas. He had burned his leg while escaping the hacienda, but other than that he had suffered no injury. His half-brother, Sully Rending, walked briskly next to him and they talked of the two secret service agents, West and Gordon.

"Remind me to keep an eye on those two," Rending said, turning to Sully. "I should like to get better acquainted with them one of these days."

"Yes, so would I."

They turned and smiled at one another, then hurried to the train station.

15


End file.
